


Trust

by AutumnSwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Castiel tries vanilla dating, Cock Warming, Coming Untouched, Contracts, Dean thinks he wants to switch, Dom/sub, Dominant Castiel, Dubious Consent, Ends on a happy note though, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Master/Pet, Rope Bondage, Smart Dean Winchester, Spanking, Stripper Dean, depressive symptoms, kitten play, submissive for hire, zombies but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 91,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnSwitch/pseuds/AutumnSwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been watching his favorite submissive perform at Alistair's for months.  When it looks like his green-eyed fantasy is in trouble, Castiel intervenes.  Dean and Castiel hit it off and explore their relationship through both vanilla dating and D/s play.  Is their contract really going to satisfy them both?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I will try to list any warnings/triggers at the beginning of each chapter. For additional explanation of triggering elements, I will add notes to the end. 
> 
> Warnings: Refusal to safeword, Gimp suit mention

Trust  
Chapter 1

Castiel was a man with a rather strict routine. Monday through Friday he worked as the office manager at a moderately sized pediatric practice. He juggled the chaos of clients, doctors, nurses, assistants, billing, charts, and payroll in meticulous order. And for the past nine months, Castiel closed the office on Fridays at 8 and headed straight to the bar. The cook usually had his order ready as he took his seat at the end of the counter: beef burger, cooked to medium, double cheddar, double bacon, dash of hot sauce, toasted seedless bun. He always ate on the main restaurant floor, washing down the meal with a glass of iced water. After, he flashed his ID and made his way down to the club.

He frequented Bar A weekly. After a grueling work schedule it was something he could do to "treat himself". A bit of eye candy to quench the thirst of his unspoken desires. 

Castiel would never admit out loud the thrill he received watching a man on his knees, not to anyone outside of the club. It wasn't the brutality of a scene that got him excited. It was the unwavering trust demonstrated by the submissive on stage that set his blood on fire. 

It had been years since Castiel's last relationship, but that fact was quickly becoming easy to forget. With the regularity of his visits to Alistair's, Castiel had grown accustomed to fantasizing about a certain pair of hazel-green eyes. The exhibitionist took on such a prominent role in his thoughts, that Castiel no longer felt single, alone. Castiel's favorite fantasies were of his attentiveness to the sub, giving him just want they needed after an intense scene. He imagined the sub collapsing into his arms, allowing him to provide the praise and comfort he craved. Rarely was aftercare featured on the stage; and so Castiel's imagination ran wild.

He returned each Friday night to see the submissives succumb, beg, cry out, and give their all to the Dominant. Of course, the club insured that its performers were well cared for. And the evidence was present in the willingness of the Doms and subs alike to continue doing what they do. So, even after particularly savage scenes, Castiel was not surprised to see his favorite green-eyed submissive return to the stage week after week. Castiel assumed that the sub enjoyed the scene and was properly cared for afterward.  
…

At work, Castiel's only relief from the chaos was the presence of a young nurse. Meg was a bit of a flirt and liked trying to make Castiel smile. He valued their easy acquaintanceship, but was uninterested in developing the relationship further. She was pushy and opinionated, nothing like the submissive he sought in a partner. When Meg asked him out after work on Fridays, Castiel politely declined week after week since he had plans he would not break. 

One Friday, mid-summer, Meg surprised him by asking him if he had plans for Saturday.  She wanted to go out for drinks and a meal, early dinner.  She promised they wouldn't stay out long and that she wasn't looking for a real date.  Meg swore she only wanted a friend, since her roommates were out of town and she was feeling lonely.  Castiel thought it was a terrible idea to entertain the girl's wishes, but found it hard to turn her down twice in one day.  He thrived on being in control, but that didn't mean that he enjoyed making her feel lousy. On the contrary, his personality was naturally one to nurture and care for others.  He did not want to hurt her feelings when it could easily be avoided.  

He agreed to grab a burger with her at Bar A.  It was located between his apartment and the office, an easy commute for them both. Beyond the convenience of location, Castiel was a creature of habit and did not stray from his routine when he could avoid it. He liked the food and crowd at Bar A, so inviting her there made sense to him. Of course he knew it was a bad idea to bring a coworker to the bar above an underground fetish club, but chances were that she had no idea what went on beneath the restaurant.  Additionally, if she did happen to know that Bar A housed a BDSM club, then perhaps she was a patron herself. After all, unless they had been invited to or truly looked for the club, most people had never heard of it.   
   
Saturday came and they ate together, making easy conversation. Since he was not planning to go down to Alistair's, Castiel allowed himself two beers over the course of their meal.  Meg thanked him for his company, more times than necessary, correctly assuming that by the time their plates were cleared Castiel's mind was elsewhere. It hadn't been 24 hours since he was there last and even that small change in his routine left his stomach in a knot.  He kept hoping that Meg would excuse herself and head home.  Although it was not in his original plan, Castiel did not think that he could convince himself to leave the restaurant without first taking a peek downstairs.  After another beer for each of them, Meg finally gave Castiel an awkward half-hug, "See ya Monday, Clarence".  
   
Castiel ignored the nick-name and the small frown marring her features as she turned to leave.  A quick glance at his watch informed Castiel that it was nearly six.  He doubted anything too interesting would be going on at Alistair's, so he excused his mild intoxication and headed to the back room.  The greeter was the same as Friday, much to Castiel's relief. Benny's hearty, Cajun welcome helped to settle Castiel's discomfort at visiting on a new night.  He assumed this evening would be similar to Friday nights, if not less wild due to the time of day.  After looking over his club ID, Benny ushered Castiel through the heavy wooden door and through to the staircase.  

The entrance to the club was moderately lit and clean.  At his first visit, Castiel was pleasantly surprised to find that the club did not give off the seedy, grimy vibe he'd experienced at other establishments.  The walls were white with hardwood floors and potted plants adorned the hallway.  There were four visible doors (one on the left and three to the right).  Castiel had never been in the smaller rooms, choosing to spend his time at the main stage.  A private man, such as himself, should probably feel more comfortable having more intimate meetings. However, Castiel found that he preferred to lose himself in the small crowd of club members.  He walked through the hallway to the solitary door on the left, opening it without hesitation.   
   
It surprised Castiel to find that there was already a crowd gathered in the front seats near the stage.  He did not recognize the performers. A Domme he had not seen before moved around the stage with arrogance. The submissive was covered in a latex suit - not leaving much by way of identifying features. Castiel took a private booth; his preference was to view the scene from the side. It allowed total view of the submissive as he knelt before his Domme. 

Castiel watched in rapture as the sub held his back straight, most of his weight resting on his knees. He seemed to carefully avoid resting his ass down against his heels. Castiel wondered if the Domme had ordered him to hold that pose, or if he was trying to avoid irritating an already sensitive rump. Good boy. Sliding back into the plush leather, Castiel drew his palms over his thighs and allowed his eyes to absorb the scene. Behind his thirsty gaze, Castiel imagined what he would do to reward his sub for following orders, holding such an uncomfortable posture just because he wanted to please him. Castiel envisioned his hands caressing the reddened skin of his sub's abused ass. Sweet whispers of praise for his sub's ears alone. Pressing delicate kisses along any welts and bruises. He yearned to claim his sub with tenderness. 

Castiel isn't so involved in his own fantasy to miss the changes occurring in the real life-sub's demeanor. He observed the tremble in the sub's shoulders, the way his head began to nod forward and jerk back as if struggling to stay awake. The sub looked completely in a daze, on the verge of fainting. All fantasy dissolved as Castiel moved to the edge of his chair. Safe-word. Call it out. “Safe-word, safe-word.” At some point Castiel gave voice to the concern in his head. He leaned further toward the stage as if reminding, begging the submissive to call off the scene. 

Muscles in Castiel's jaw jumped; he urgently repeated the quiet command. His eyes opened wider in panic as the performer swayed again. He was up from his chair taking long strides toward the stage before his mind caught up to his body. His full attention on the stage, Castiel witnessed the sub slump forward. Oblivious, the Domme continued to showboat for the audience with her various props. 

The weight of strong hands on his shoulders snapped Castiel back to reality. It was no secret that this room was hands-off and Castiel was surprised to find that he had brought himself within inches of getting himself in serious trouble. He found himself at the very edge of the platform, arms mid-reach to the submissive. Castiel fought to keep his attention on the stage as security tried to force him toward the nearest exit. 

At the sound of the scuffle, the submissive’s head lolled to the side, eyes opening for the first time to acknowledge the too-near presence of Castiel and the security guard. Castiel recognized the bright green irises immediately. He swallowed hard as his heart leaped from his chest. If it were not for the unyielding grip of the security guard, Castiel would have surged toward him. Those were the eyes that drew Castiel back to this club week after week. He did not have a name to go with them and simply referred to the man as his. And here his sub was pushed past his limits, refusing to safe-word, practically passing out. It made Castiel's stomach turn sour. 

Castiel observed the differences in those familiar eyes. Up close, Castiel could see his face was red and raw from tears, not just flushed with the heat of the room or his suit. The security guard pushed harder until Castiel’s feet began to move again. Without breaking eye contact, Castiel mouthed one last plea, “Safe-word.”

The submissive’s eyes welled with unshed tears and gave a barely noticeable shake of his head. The stage disappeared as a door closed between them. Castiel found himself in a cramped hallway nothing like the front of the club. The smell of sweat and leather nearly choked him and his illusions of the club shattered. 

Safe, sane, consensual. Castiel began to doubt whether these guidelines were considered here. A submissive scared to safe-word did not bode well for the integrity of this establishment. Even in the grimiest of clubs, Castiel had never observed a submissive so clearly frightened and neglected. The sour taste of bile rose in his throat as he considered that his sub could be so uncared for. So consumed with disappointment and unwarranted shame, Castiel almost missed the words directed at him from the security guard.

“Mr. Novak…” It sounded like it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get his attention.

Castiel looked up to see the security officer and the greeter from the club’s entrance. Castiel steeled his expression before acknowledging them.

“Mr. Novak, we know you are familiar with our policies. At absolutely no time is it appropriate for any guest to approach the stage as you did.” Security spoke in monotone, bored as if he had recited these lines often.

Castiel’s expression did not change and he was not willing to apologize. Unsure what he would say if he spoke, he kept his mouth shut. 

The cramped space quickly filled with commotion as the stage door opened and the performers pushed past them. Shaky hands pulled at the gimp suit as the submissive stumbled through the hall. Tripping himself up on the fabric, the man careened into Castiel. A pair of hands shot out with offers of help and stability. The man held onto Castiel's forearms to steady himself. His green eyes caught the other's gaze before dropping quickly to stare at the floor. He mumbled an apology before continuing his walk to the dressing room.

Castiel felt his sub's arms slip through his fingers. He leaned forward in an effort to prolong the touch even as the man pulled away. The gesture was met with a rough tug on Castiel's shoulder, a firm reminder to keep his hands to himself. Shrugging off the guard's grip, Castiel watched as his sub continued to retreat, disappearing behind a corner.

Benny escorted Castiel outside shortly after, suggesting he head home for the night.  
...

The following week at work could have been described as nothing less than a clusterfuck. Castiel, normally the poster of order and control, could not keep his head straight. Stacks of paperwork seemed to multiply as Castiel pushed them around his desk. Unable to concentrate on a single task, Castiel found himself staring into space, haunted by the look of defeat in his sub's eyes. He could read so much in the few times they'd caught each other's stare that night. Clear as day there was fear, exhaustion, longing, confusion, and shame. Beneath that, Castiel did not know... but he wanted to. 

If his mornings were overwhelmed by memories of his sub, then the afternoons belonged to Castiel's battle with himself. The aching need to return to the club churned dangerously in his stomach. He felt compelled to find his sub and tend to him. On the other hand, just as strong, were feelings of disgust. Castiel was revolted at the idea that he could patron a club that didn't have the decency or humanity to ensure essential aftercare to their submissives. Monday through Thursday Castiel left the office feeling each day was less productive than the one before. 

Friday night Castiel found himself at the office long after closing, headphones blaring symphonies because – no – lyrics were definitely not welcome in this space. His ears ached with every blast of horns and screech of the strings, but the music did its job. In moderate discomfort, Castiel's mind was unable to bombard him with thoughts of the club. Finally, he could steamroll through his work. Cramming a full week's agenda into the last five hours certainly did not bring forth the best quality, but even a stickler like Castiel could tell that he wasn't going to produce anything better in his current state. 

The computer screen blinked and turned black as he shrugged on his coat. His watch read nearly 12:30AM. Castiel walked with purpose through the nearly empty street toward his apartment complex, headphones still snuggly fit to his ears. He was able to effectively block out most thoughts of the weekend until he neared his block. The familiar smells of greasy bar food and cigarette smoke were enough to stir up the burning ache in his chest that he had been trying so hard to suppress. Even his stomach betrayed him as it sounded a loud protest at going home without his Friday-night burger. His nose led him the rest of the way as he shoved his phone and headphones into the pocket of his coat. 

Stepping into the bar brought up a mix of emotion. There was anger at the club managers, shame in himself for coming back, relief at returning to routine, and an overwhelming concern for his sub. And he really should stop referring to the man as his now that he intends to... what? What, exactly, did he hope that another visit would accomplish? Castiel sat down on the stool at the end of the bar top and sank his face into his hands. 

“Didn't think I'd see you tonight.” A kind, female voice came from behind the bar and though Castiel knew the greeting was directed at him, he only managed a grunt in response. He heard a heavy plate slide in front of him and it was the smell of hot food that finally motivated him to sit up. 

“Thank you, Ellen.” Castiel pulled the plate toward himself before shoveling the juicy burger into his mouth. Despite the thick crowd of patrons, Ellen checked in with Castiel periodically and he savored his meal as if it were his last. He needed to find a new restaurant and restructure his Friday nights, but the thought of such a drastic change to his routine terrified him. Each bite was harder to swallow, his eyes drew over every inch of the room in farewell. 

In a last-ditch effort to prolong his meal, Castiel ordered a basket of fries. Ellen took his request with a warm smile, removing the empty plate from the counter. He looked up and offered his own poor excuse for a smile in return. It was this gesture that allowed him to see the way her face lit up as she caught sight of something over his shoulder. Castiel turned to follow her gaze.

The room was full of rowdy young people, but Castiel understood immediately the source of her brightened mood. A man of average build made his way across the floor and settled into the a newly vacated bar stool, his eyes squinting through the dark and smoke. He settled into the stool next to Castiel. Before their eyes could meet, Castiel turned to face the bar.

“How's the night treating you?” The man reached over the counter as he spoke, helping himself to a bottle of beer. 

Castiel would have sworn the man was speaking to Ellen, but she walked away without acknowledging the question or that he just stole a beer. Castiel didn't dare move his eyes from studying the tequila labels along the wall. 

He heard a small sigh come from his neighbor, then the distinct hiss-snap of a bottle cap. After a moment, the man spoke again and Castiel had no doubt that his words were directed at him. “I promise they won't leap out to attack if you let your guard down.”

Though he knew it would be considered rude to ignore the other man, Castiel was out-of-practice with making casual conversation. He moved his gaze to his hands which were clasped around his empty glass of water. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel stole another look at his neighbor. His eyes slowly drank in the sight of him from the bottom up. The man was dressed casually in dark boots, ripped jeans, and a well-worn t-shirt. He wore a dusting of stubble across his jaw and freckles covered the bridge of his nose. Castiel reached his eyes and froze in recognition. Gorgeous green, green, green. 

Unable to turn away, Castiel continued to stare. His breath hitched as those green eyes turned toward him. Deafened by the sound of his own beating heart, Castiel felt the cacophony of the bar fade into the background. He wanted to say something, anything, to voice the relief he felt in seeing his sub – no, not his, not yet. The man seemed to have recovered from the previous weekend no worse for wear. Castiel brought his glass to his lips, seeking to cool his dry throat. He tilted the glass further and further back fruitlessly.

The man beside him gave a small chuckle. “Need a refill?”

That laugh, that smile. He was beautiful. So much more so when casually dressed, free of the costumes and make-up he wore on stage. Such a good boy to attend to his needs. Castiel gathered his wits about him and held out his glass. “Please.” His own voice surprised him, rough and deep with latent desire. 

Reaching behind the bar again, the man snatched up a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap. He placed his hand over Castiel's to hold the glass steady while he poured. The touch of his hand sent a pulse of excitement over Castiel's skin. The hairs on his arm stood on end. The man pressed into his personal space, causing swirls of excitement in Castiel's chest. Typically, Castiel only felt at ease when he could delude himself into feeling some semblance of control over a situation. With his companion driving their interactions, Castiel scrambled to pull himself together. 

“My name is Dean.”

After taking a long drink to quench his thirst and sort his thoughts, Castiel took a steadying breath and introduced himself. “Hello, Dean. I am Castiel. How are you this evening?” Castiel wondered if the man would recognize the honest concern and sincere interest behind the question.

Dean shrugged and then laughed. He took a deep swig off his beer before answering. “Nervous, I guess.”

Castiel tilted his head in curiosity. “I make you nervous, Dean?”

“What?” Dean's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “No, not you.” He sighed, “I quit my job tonight.”

Castiel steeled his expression, careful not to reveal the warring emotions he felt. “You quit,” he reflected, encouraging Dean to continue.

“Yeah. Well, I'm pretty sure they were gearing up to fire me anyway. I offered to give two weeks notice, but they cut me loose tonight.”

“Oh.” Castiel did not know whether to extend congratulations or condolences, so he offered neither. “That makes you nervous?”

Dean ran a hand through his short sandy hair and squeezed the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, the money was good. Even if I pick up extra shifts at the garage, it's not going to come close.” Dean did not specify what job he had quit and Castiel wondered if it was because he didn't want Castiel to know or because he already understood that Castiel had recognized him from the club. 

“Then, why did you quit?” 

Ellen returned before Dean could answer, placing the basket of fries between them. Castiel saw him eying the food, and thrilled when he didn't reach for a bite until Castiel gave him permission. “Eat. I won't finish these on my own.” 

Dean snacked on the fries, taking one at a time only after Castiel had eaten several. “You were telling me why you decided to quit your job,” Castiel prompted, hoping Dean wasn't going to avoid the question.

“Sure, um.” Dean finished the rest of his beer in one go before stumbling though an answer. “I guess I just couldn't... didn't want to do it anymore. It was fine, at first.” After a long sigh, Dean shook his head and dropped his gaze. “Just took it's fuckin' toll after a while. Don't know how the others do it.”

Castiel placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, feeling the man still under his touch. He gave the shoulder a firm squeeze. He wanted to tell Dean that it wasn't his fault, that he should have been better informed, better cared for. Submission wasn't something to fear. He felt Dean relax in the silence and gently removed his hand. “Did you enjoy it? At first?”

“I guess...” Dean’s eyes remained on the beer bottle in front of him as he picked at the label. Castiel watched as the man’s brow came together in deep thought. 

Dean remembered when he first came to the restaurant as a bartender. He and Ellen hit it off right away. It felt good to have a mother figure looking out for him and she was impressed at how well he learned to juggle the complicated drink orders and difficult patrons. She lauded his successes to Alistair and Dean was happy to hear that the owner had expressed interest in him. Dean thrived under their praise and quickly surpassed Ellen in tips. 

When customers started requesting him by name, Alistair’s interest in Dean became more of an obsession. He approached Dean with the promise of unlimited earning potential. The idea of performing hadn’t appealed to him right away. But after watching the other employees on stage and getting to know the staff personally, the atmosphere started to seduce him. Alistair allowed him to audition as a Dom and a sub, although now Dean realized Alistair knew he would hire him as a submissive all along. 

Dean’s first Domme was enthusiastic and her demonstrations were engaging for both the performers and the patrons. But Dean didn’t receive much instruction beyond what he experienced on stage. Besides the brief reminders to take care, get sleep, and rehydrate, none of his coworkers managed to give advice that worked to help him avoid burn out. In fact, no one seemed to care that he was spiraling dangerously out of control, until last weekend. Dean recalled the concern of the blue-eyed businessman from Saturday; he had to be Castiel. The only one who paid enough attention to see that something was wrong. The only person to care. It pissed Dean off to feel like he wasn't worth the concern of anyone else. He wondered what it would be like to serve under the care of someone like Castiel.

Dean had been gearing up to quit for months. Since his promotion from bartender to stage submissive, Dean's confidence and pride had shattered. His discomfort at Alistair's was affecting his life outside the club. He was second guessing himself at the garage and lying to his brother. It was the lying that bothered him most. With his mood fluctuating between self-deprecating depression and anger, Dean struggled to hide his troubles from Sam. The distance helped. Sam had been studying pre-law at Stanford since September, neither of them able to afford frequent visits across country. But after the inquisition Sam gave him on Sunday, Dean knew he needed an attitude adjustment and a career change. 

“Your brother does not know about your profession?”

Dean blinked, startled by Castiel's question. He hadn't realized he was speaking out loud and had no idea how much he had revealed. “Don't really have a profession anymore. Just a part-time mechanic now.” Dean dragged his hand over his face with an exasperated groan. “I am so screwed, dude.”

Castiel did not know what to say without overstepping a boundary and offending Dean. It was clear that Dean had no intention of spilling his guts to a stranger. Even so, Castiel wanted to offer a solution, even a job. Though the office was crazy with the addition of two new doctors, the budget didn't leave room for a new staff member. Under different circumstances, he thought he would hire Dean as his own submissive. He feared that job offer wouldn't go over well. Beyond that, Castiel wanted to comfort his companion. He wanted to tell Dean that it would all work out, that he'd be OK. But Castiel had no guarantees and he refused to lie to this man. 

“It's not your fault. I hope you realize that.” Castiel responded. “The exhaustion, the mood swings... all of that could have been avoided with proper aftercare. Your safety and comfort should have been forefront in any Dominant’s priority. You deserve better.” I would give you better.

Dean nodded slowly, but Castiel knew he didn't really understand what was being said. He wondered how experienced Castiel was as a Dominant. He considered what it might be like to surrender to a man who valued things like safety, comfort, and aftercare. The thoughts caught him off-guard. Was that a world he wanted to be part of? “I guess I caught the short stick, then…” Dean shrugged as if he believed that he had gotten exactly as he deserved. He entered a world that he didn't understand because it started out fun and the money seemed right. But he had gotten in way over his head. “It's late. I should get home.” He clapped a hand against Castiel's shoulder, “I'll see you around?”

Castiel watched as Dean rose from the bar stool, “I won't be coming back.”

Dean paused, looking a bit surprised. A small frown tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“After what I saw last week, I had no intention of coming back here again.” Castiel gave a close approximation of a smile, “But I'm glad I did. Glad to meet you and know that you won't be subjecting yourself to that again.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Dean's mouth twisted as he tried to find the right words. He hoped that Castiel knew that the gratitude he expressed was for more than the night's company and conversation. Dean needed to thank Castiel for giving a shit, for listening, for caring enough to approach the stage on Saturday. “Well, have a good night.” 

Castiel nodded in response and turned his attention back to his basket of fries. He forced himself not to watch as Dean left. If he had allowed himself a glance, he would have seen Dean linger in the doorway for another look back at Castiel.

Ellen approached shortly after to take the empty basket from the counter. “Was everything to your liking?” Her tone alluded that she was asking about more than the food. The tease in her expression faded as she noticed the worried line of Castiel's frown. “Something wrong?”

Castiel shook his head, looking down at the counter. “I should have asked for his number.”

Ellen leaned her hip against the counter to listen, wiping her hands on a small towel.

Castiel continued, “Do you- Could you give Dean a message from me?”

Ellen's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Dean?”

“Of course,” Castiel's shoulders slumped forward, “he probably gave a fake name.” 

“No, no. That was him.” Ellen refilled his water while reassuring him that Dean had been honest in their interaction. “I was surprised that he told you his real name. Around here he usually goes by Chess.”

“Oh.” His confidence returned. Sitting up straighter, Castiel fished in his pocket for a business card. Finding nothing but an old candy wrapper, Castiel reached for a bar napkin. “Will you be sure he gets this?” Castiel scrawled his e-mail address on the napkin and slid it across the counter to Ellen. “He had mentioned how he valued your friendship, so I trust that he'll visit even after his termination of employment.”

Ellen read the napkin and placed it carefully in her apron. “He'll get your message.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His heart thumped against his chest as if he was back in high school asking his crush on a date. Is that what this was? Dean admittedly had limited knowledge on what real life Dom/sub dynamic should be, but he had spent the past week reading everything he could on the internet. After a quick assessment, he wondered if he was being too aggressive for Castiel to see him as a worthy submissive. And damn if that thought didn't pack a punch. Since when was he actually interested in being submissive for real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: D/s undertones, masturbation

Trust  
Chapter 2

Dean received the email address in a cryptic text message while on his way home from the bar. 

> Ellen: The blue-eyed trenchcoat thinks you forgot something – cnovak@pedimedical.com  
>  Ellen: Have fun!

He sat up in bed that night staring at his phone, wondering if this was worth pursuing. The guy seemed all right. Dean wasn't squicked by anything during their conversation and he risked getting banned from Alistair's just to make sure a stranger was OK. Dean remembered the look on Castiel's face as he begged him to use his safe-word. 

The truth was, as far as Dean understood, no safe-words are made or used on stage. It's never supposed to get that serious. But the newer Domme, Abby, was just cruel. Dean always hated to play the worm and she knew it, so she set out to make him that much more miserable. That's the impression Dean got from all of the Dominant exhibitionists, especially the women. The mission of the Dom/Domme at Alistair's, was to break the submissive. And the submissive's job was to like it, or pretend to. 

Dean exited the email composition screen and the blank page saved as draft. Rolling over, he pulled his sheets snug around him and settled in to sleep. One thought persisted on his mind, vying to be noticed. _Castiel said he deserved better._ Dean tried not to give weight to the thought that perhaps Dominance could mean something different to Castiel.  
...

By Thursday Castiel had given up hope and resigned himself to logging into his email only once every few hours, instead of every fifteen minutes. So at closing time, he was genuinely caught off-guard to see an unfamiliar sender appear twice in his inbox. Castiel's fingers jumped as he shifted the cursor to open the message.

> Sender: impala67@singerauto.com  
>  Subject: (No Subject)  
>  Sent: 08/21/14 05:30 PM
> 
> Cas,
> 
> Hope it's OK. to call you Cas. I don't know how you spell your full name.  
>  Anyway, I got your email from Ellen. 
> 
> -DW

Castiel quickly opened the second message.

> Sender: impala67@singerauto.com  
>  Subject: (No Subject)  
>  Sent: 08/21/14 07:15 PM
> 
> Cas,
> 
> So yeah. Hi. I'm getting hungry. Thought you might want to grab a bite.
> 
> -DW

A wide smile split across Castiel's face as he hit reply. A new message appeared in the inbox as Castiel typed his response.

> Sender: impala67@singerauto.com  
>  Subject: (No Subject)  
>  Sent: 08/21/14 07:55 PM
> 
> Got caught up watching Defiance. Thought you might've answered.  
>  Why did you give me your email if you weren't going to respond?
> 
> -DW

Castiel quickly typed up a few sentences and hit send.

> Sender: c.novak@pedimedica.com  
>  Subject: Apologies
> 
> Dean,
> 
> I am leaving the office in a few minutes.  
>  Are you still interested in dinner?
> 
> Regards,  
>  Castiel

_Send._

Castiel left his email open and filed the last of his paperwork, waiting to hear the notification of a new incoming message. The chime came just as Castiel was going to shut down the computer.

> Sender: impala67@singerauto.com  
>  Subject: Re: Apologies  
>  Sent: 08/21/14 08:00 PM
> 
> 785-555-0179
> 
> Not sure if you can access your work email from home.
> 
> -DW

Castiel entered the new contact information to his phone before logging out and locking up. With the security alarm set, Castiel brought his phone is to his ear and called Dean.

Dean felt his pocket buzz with an incoming call. The unnamed number could have been anyone, but his breath caught in his throat at the thought that it might be Castiel. “Hello? This is Dean.”

“Hello Dean.” Castiel walked down the front steps and headed home at a leisurely pace.

Hearing that voice, Dean’s mouth split into a wide grin. “Cas? Hey, uh, what's up?” He was sure Castiel could hear his smile through the phone.

“Are you still interested in having dinner with me?” 

“Heh, I actually just ordered a pizza.” Dean paused. After two hours of emails without response, Dean had pretty much given up hope at seeing Castiel tonight. “Where are you? You know Pizza Rustica on Main?” His heart thumped against his chest as if he was back in high school asking his crush on a date. _Is that what this was?_ Dean admittedly had limited knowledge on what real life Dom/sub dynamic should be, but he had spent the past week reading everything he could on the internet. After a quick assessment, he wondered if he was being too aggressive for Castiel to see him as a worthy submissive. And damn if that thought didn't pack a punch. Since when was he actually interested in being submissive for real?

As Dean extended the invitation, warmth bloomed in the center of Castiel’s chest. “I know the place. I will meet you there; it's only a short walk from the office.”

“I could pick you up, if you want. I don't mean to drag you out of your way or anything.” His voice came across the line hesitantly, an apology for the perceived inconvenience.

“Dean, I am certain that meeting you for dinner is not a drag. I will see you soon.” Castiel hung up and continued walking. He was familiar with the pizzeria, as it served the only decent eggplant parmesan in town. 

Coming up to the storefront, Castiel caught sight of Dean. He watched the sidewalk from a small table near the entry. He appeared nervous, excited, drumming his fingers on the windowsill. Dean smiled as he saw Castiel approach. He stood up to extend a greeting, but was unsure whether shaking hands would be appropriate. He tucked his hands in his pockets and nodded instead. 

“Good to see you again.” Castiel returned his nod, happy to see Dean's face light up.

The air in the pizzeria was warm, thick with the smells of melting cheese and tomato. They stood, holding each other in a quiet stare for a long moment. Dean felt he could lose himself in Castiel’s brilliant blue eyes. He felt safe, in a way he probably shouldn't feel in the presence of a stranger. A voice came from the kitchen counter, startling them both. “Winchester?”

Dean started toward the cashier, but Castiel held up his hand. “Sit. Allow me.” Castiel turned, disallowing any protest from Dean. Dean caught on immediately. _This is how it goes. The Dominant says a command and the submissive follows._ With a hard swallow, Dean considered whether he truly wanted to play submissive. Sure, he wanted to learn the role better, wanted to explore his kinks. But more than that, he was quickly beginning to _like_ Castiel. Since their conversation at the bar, and maybe even before that, Dean had begun to feel real attraction to this man. 

Castiel paid at the counter and returned, his head tilted in confusion. “Are we taking this to-go?”

Dean was still standing beside the table, lost in his thoughts. He shook his head to focus. “I ordered it as take out, before I heard back from you.” _Shit, quit whining dude._ He cleared his throat, “Figured I'd finish my show, wash down the pizza with a few beers... But this is cool, too.” Dean waited for Castiel to resume the dominance he demonstrated in purchasing the pizza, but it never came. After a pause that lasted longer than necessary, Dean huffed in frustration.

“I did not mean to interrupt your plans.” Castiel struggled with his instinct to act, take charge. Not wanting to scare Dean away, he waited for him to take make a move toward the seat or the door. He felt uneasy waiting for Dean to take the lead. He wanted to make the decisions for both of them, but worried about doing so. Taking into account Dean’s recent experience with inconsiderate Dominants, Castiel became overly cautious.

Dean shifted from foot to foot. “Do you know Defiance?”

One corner of his mouth twitched upward as he answered honestly. “I prefer Battlestar and Firefly. I found this season of Defiance was difficult to follow.” Castiel shifted to hold the edge of the box since the heat of the fresh pie was burning his palms. He tried not to rush Dean by showing his discomfort.

“Nah, season two is far better than the first. You probably just missed an episode. I'll give you a recap so you can appreciate the rest.” Dean bit his lip as if considering his options. “Would you like to come up? I've got the season saved.”

Castiel had half a mind to decline, if only to make it a point for Dean not to bring strangers up to his apartment. But he relished the opportunity to spend time with Dean away from prying eyes and passersby. So, instead, he accepted the invitation, “Lead the way.”

With a hop to his step, Dean walked them down the street to a door between a small café and laundromat. “I'm just above the coffeehouse,” he explained. They traveled up two narrow flights of steps to a small landing. The smells of detergent and fresh coffee warred in the stairwell. Castiel crinkled his nose in distaste. Dean laughed, noticing his expression. _Cute._ “You get used to it.”

Dean unlocked the door and ushered Castiel into the apartment. He pointed out the doors for his bathroom and bedroom as they made their way through to the kitchen. The kitchen area opened up to a decent sized living room, separated by a breakfast bar instead of a closed wall. Castiel set the pizza box down, grateful to unload the hot and oily cardboard. He gestured toward the sink, “May I?”

Dean blinked at him, wondering why Castiel was always asking permission and waiting for him to make decisions for them. He considered that maybe Castiel did not understand that Dean wanted more than a friend. His response came out rushed as he tried to find a way to show Castiel that he was comfortable taking a submissive role. “Yes, of course.” He considered tacking a _sir_ to the end to make his point clearer. “Make yourself at home.” 

Castiel watched the way Dean carried himself and noticed something lurking beneath his request for him to _make yourself at home._ Castiel took the request to heart and hoped he wasn’t reading too much into it. He allowed himself to assume the demeanor he normally kept at home. His home was his sanctuary and his playground, one of the only areas he could be comfortable in his own skin. Castiel recognized that it was no small thing for Dean to welcome him into his home and wanted to give him the respect that level of trust warranted. Castiel reminded himself that with Dean there was no reason to pretend to be someone he was not. Dean had shared at the bar how he wished he had a Dominant like Castiel. And Castiel's main focus as a Dominant was always to care for and support his submissive. In befriending someone so clearly confused about the roles of Dom and sub, he knew his demonstration would go a lot further than complicated explanations. He took his time to wash his hands thoroughly as he relaxed into his role. 

He felt Dean’s nervous energy buzzing between them as he busied himself around his kitchen. Castiel moved slowly and deliberately to demonstrate the control he could command even among Dean’s excitement. Dean returned to his side, after a few moments, and extended to him a beer. _Good boy, so thoughtful to take initiative._ Castiel allowed himself a moment to dry his hands and fold the dish towel when he was done. Only then did he turn his full attention to Dean. He drew in a slow, steadying breath and looked into Dean’s eyes. His movements sent the message to Dean that Castiel was not nervous, that he knew what he was doing, that it would all be OK. 

He watched Dean’s dimples jump as Castiel entered his personal space. His crooked smile advertised his jitters as a blush bloomed beneath his freckles. Despite their close proximity, Dean did not retreat from Castiel’s gaze. _Good, so good for me._ Castiel restrained himself from reaching out to pet Dean and, instead, took the bottle offered between them. His fingertips grazed Dean’s wrist in a gesture that only appeared accidental. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean's cheeks flushed darker, a shy smile on his lips. Castiel was in awe to be so close to Dean's pouty mouth. He had fantasized about that mouth for months. What he would give to feel his kiss. _Not yet._ Castiel reminded himself that Dean wasn't ready for anything more than friendship. True, he had practically asked Castiel to be his Dominant. But Dean didn't really know what he was saying at the time, did he? He stamped out any feelings of arousal before they became physically apparent. 

Dean noticed the attention Castiel paid to his mouth and licked his lips in anticipation. A small chuckle escaped Castiel's throat and he shook his head. _Not yet._ “What?” Dean gave an unsure snort along with him. Castiel found Dean endearing.

“You look hungry. Let's eat.” Castiel brushed past Dean and pulled out a stool for each of them at the counter. “Sit.” Castiel rewarded Dean with a bright smile when he complied, seating himself in the stood beside him. Even thought they were in Dean’s kitchen, he felt surprisingly comfortable being led around by Castiel. He even noticed his body was responding in sparks of arousal whenever Castiel gave expressions of gratitude or praise. 

They ate pizza straight from the box and shared casual conversation. Castiel learned about Dean's love for classic rock and heard first-hand Dean's shameless joy for singing, no matter how far off-key he strayed. Dean asked about Castiel's work and family. As they ventured into more intimate topics, Castiel spoke candidly about his upbringing, his absentee father and manipulative mother. When it came to talk of siblings, Castiel and Dean traded stories equally. Growing up in a home with four brothers, Castiel could easily trump any prank war Dean described, but he preferred to hear Dean share. The love Dean felt for his brother was nearly tangible. 

They never lacked for conversation and Dean was always eager to learn more about Castiel. After a few hours, Castiel excused himself and thanked Dean for his hospitality and company. Dean didn’t think he could have asked for a better night. Their interactions were marked by an undertone of Dominance and submission, without stifling Dean in the process. He wondered if this had counted as a date. “Can I give you a ride home?” 

“It's only a few blocks,” Castiel insisted, facing Dean at the door. “I had a nice time tonight.” Their eyes locked as he brought up a hand to cradle Dean's face. His blunt fingernails scratched the base of Dean’s skull in an affectionate gesture. The temptation to kiss grew with each passing second. “I look forward to seeing you again.” Castiel’s expression was soft to match his whisper.

Dean stood expectantly in the doorway and leaned only slightly into Castiel's touch. “When?”

Castiel's lips pulled into a thin smile. He brushed his thumb along Dean's cheekbone before dropping his hand. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Watching Castiel walk away, his heart seized in his chest. Dean closed up the apartment and pressed his forehead against the door in exasperation. But the door did nothing to block the wave of confusion and frustration Castiel left in his wake. Dean ached with the desire to pull Castiel into a kiss, but knew intuitively that the action would receive a negative response. More than anything, Dean wanted to be considered worthy by Castiel. He recalled the look of approval in Castiel’s eyes when Dean followed even the simplest instruction. Dean didn’t realize that such a small look could make him feel so special. Even the memory filled Dean with a warmth that pooled in his stomach and left his pants too tight.

After a much needed adjustment of his jeans, Dean went to clear the mess in the kitchen. Grabbing the carefully folded dishtowel by the sink, he remembered how meticulous Castiel was with each of his movements. He tried to replicate the man's control as he wiped crumbs off the counter. Dragging the cloth over the Formica at half-speed filled Dean with restlessness. He was used to rushing through his day, speeding toward the times he had set aside for leisure. With Castiel, he saw a different side to life that challenged Dean’s patience. After the counter had been thoroughly cleaned, Dean continued around the kitchen with the close attention to detail. He paid no mind to the time and forced himself to wipe down each appliance individually (stove and fridge included). After the counters were cleaner than they had ever been, Dean moved on to the cabinets and floor. 

Smelling like lemon cleaner, Dean climbed into the shower. He let the hot water wash over him, loosening the tension from his tired muscles. Dean tried to relax, but his mind reeled with thoughts of Castiel. He didn’t understand how Castiel could be so calm and composed when Dean was sure the man returned at least some of his attraction. Dean was fully expecting a good-night kiss, but Castiel didn’t allow even that. He replayed their interaction at the door, searching for anything he could have done to entice Castiel further. Dean's hand moved to stoke himself in a lazy rhythm. Dean came up with dozens of ways the night could have ended in a kiss, but none of them seemed particularly submissive. _submissive._ Dean inherently knew what that meant. If this was what he wanted, if Castiel was what he wanted, Dean would not be the one calling the shots. The submissive was not in control and he needed to trust his Dominant to give him what he needed. 

Working a lather over his growing erection, Dean closed his eyes and sank into fantasy. He imagined the hands moving over his body were not his own; they belonged to Castiel. His breath came in quick huffs through his nose as he thrust into his palm, thumb swirling around the head of his cock. Dean dragged a hand across his stomach, over his chest, and up to his face. Nails digging into his skin, the touch was rougher than Castiel's. His breath hitched and excitement rose as he pressed his back against the tile wall, pretending Castiel's weight held him in place. Dean's hand moved quicker now, bringing himself closer to completion. He could imagine Castiel's grave expression watching him squirm. Dean threw his head back as fingers fisted in his hair and pulled. Dean's voice broke as he begged Castiel for permission to come. “Please...” The Castiel in his mind merely pulled his mouth into a knowing smile. It was enough to push Dean over the edge and he moaned his release. Dean's chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath and he could have sworn he heard Castiel's graveled whisper in his ear, _Thank you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean pushed himself away from his plate and disappeared behind the counter. Castiel watched with a blank expression as Dean reemerged around the corner slowly, crawling on his hands and knees. Each movement a long stretch of limbs as he made his way to Castiel's feet. “I think I could enjoy being your pet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Kitten play (light), Aftercare (light)

Trust  
Chapter 3

Castiel didn't hear from Dean on Friday morning, though he was back to checking his email several times per hour. Thoughts of their time together distracted him from his work until he finally resigned himself to contacting the man himself.

> Sender: c.novak@pedimedica.com  
>  Subject: Hello Dean  
>  Sent: 08/22/14 12:00 PM
> 
> Dean,
> 
> How is it that you are such a distraction when you are not even here?
> 
> Castiel

_Sent._

Castiel buried himself in his paperwork to pass the time, his ears on high alert for the ding of an incoming message. He managed to finish the week's payroll before he received a response. But it was not an email alert that broke his fragile concentration; it was his phone. 

New text messages from DW. Castiel had saved his contact information under the initials since Dean seemed so fond of them in his emails.

> DW: sorry it took so long to respond. been up to my elbows in engine grease.  
>  DW: im distracting huh?  
>  DW: so r u working hard or hardly working? ;)

Castiel's thumbs typed the honest answer.

> Novak: Dean, I have not been able to concentrate on anything but thoughts of you and when I might see you again.
> 
> DW: yeah?
> 
> Novak: Yes.  
>  Novak: I would very much like to take you to dinner tonight.
> 
> DW: R u asking me on a date Cas?

Castiel could not tell if Dean’s question was one of optimism or apprehension. Of course, if they were to date, Castiel would need to set strict parameters and explore what expectations they each had for the relationship. He would be lying if he denied that the attraction he felt for Dean extended beyond friendship. But he had hoped that their friendship could develop further before they entered into romance or even sex. Castiel knew of one unambiguous approach for all of these concerns to be addressed and mapped out for them. Contracts were something he was very familiar with, both in work and play. Castiel hoped it wouldn’t scare Dean away.

> Novak: We have much to discuss. What time would you like me to meet?
> 
> DW: dont get off work until after 9. gotta stay late to do inventory

Castiel’s heart sank for just a moment.

> Novak: I understand. 

It only took a few seconds for Dean’s next message to come through.

> DW: doesnt mean you can't come by tho
> 
> Novak: I will pick up dinner on the way. 

Castiel replaced his phone on the edge of his desk and turned back to his paperwork, beaming. His anxieties barely surfaced at the start of a new routine. He may not be going to the club, but he would get to see Dean. And wasn't that really what Friday evenings had been about? The rest of his day passed quickly as Castiel expertly navigated his way through team meetings and minor disputes at the office. Closing time came just as Castiel printed the next week’s schedule. He lingered in the office for a few minutes, waiting for the receptionists to leave for the weekend. Once they had gone, Castiel took a moment to print one last document. He placed the freshly printed contract into an unmarked manila envelope. After tucking the envelope and his phone into his briefcase, Castiel headed out of the office.

He decided to stop at home first in order to freshen up and change. If Dean _did_ consider this a date, Castiel wanted to make the best impression he could. Castiel’s heart fluttered in his chest at the consideration that Dean may truly want to date him. During their first conversation at Bar A, Castiel understood that Dean would probably be open to the idea of Castiel teaching him more about the D/s relationship. But Castiel hadn’t truly allowed himself to entertain the hope that Dean would want to be in a relationship with him. Castiel paused a moment, acknowledging the way Dean has burrowed into his life and altered his routine so easily. Of course, Friday nights at Alistair's were focused on watching his sub. Actually dating the man? Yes, that was worth a change in routine. 

Castiel showered and slipped on a pair of dark jeans and a fitted tee shirt. He assumed Dean would want to lounge in the comfort of his home after a long day at work, so he didn't want to show up overdressed. Looking at himself in the mirror, Castiel ran his fingers through his hair and nodded in approval. It was obvious to him that he had been too long ignoring his gym membership, but he felt his physique was still appealing. 

Before leaving the house, Castiel called to place an order at Ginger, the pan-Asian restaurant downtown. It was a bit out of the way and he would need to take a cab, but the food selection was excellent. Castiel ordered a little bit of everything, unsure what Dean would like. After giving his credit card information, Castiel tucked his phone in his pocket. He switched the manila envelope out from his briefcase and into a small messenger bag. The bag crossed over his body and bounced against his hip. Feeling ready for the night, he grabbed his jacket from the closet and exited the apartment. 

Dean was just setting a pot of coffee to brew when he heard a stiff knock at his door. He sprinted through the length of his apartment in seconds to answer it. He pulled the door open with enthusiasm, only slightly out of breath. “Hiya, Cas.” His smile stretched wider as he saw the bags of food. If the man had a tail, it would be wagging. Dean reached out and relieved Castiel of his heavenly-scented burden.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, “And here I thought you were so excited to see me.” 

Dean's eyes turned quickly to settle on Castiel's. His expression became serious. How could Castiel be blind to the fact that Dean was already infatuated with him? After a moment's pause, Dean insisted, “I am.” He held their gaze and willed Castiel to understand the feelings he wasn't able to put to words.

Dean jerked his head and turned, beckoning him to follow as he moved to the kitchen. Dean heard Castiel close the door behind them and requested he turn the bolt. Castiel immediately noticed the kitchen's transformation. It hadn't looked dirty before, but tonight everything shone. The scent of lemon still hung in the air. “Impressive.”

Placing the food down, Dean leaned back against the counter. “So,” He swiped at Castiel's jacket sleeve playfully. “Don't think I forgot about my question. You never did give me an answer.”

Castiel amused himself, standing just out of Dean's reach as the man swiped at his sleeve again and missed. “What question was that?” He took a small step toward Dean and allowed him to grab onto his wrist.

Dean pulled Castiel closer and held him loosely by the front of his jacket. He looked up through thick lashes and bit his lip. He whispered, “Is this a date, Cas?”

The sound of his name spoken so softly from Dean's lips sparked his arousal, which settled heavily along his thigh. It felt like all his blood abandoned his brain, leaving him lightheaded and dizzy. Castiel didn't say anything for what felt like a long time and his silence started to make Dean uncomfortable. Dean let go of the jacket, misreading Castiel's silence for disapproval. His stomach twisted with confusion and anxiety.

“I'm sorry.” 

Castiel blinked, “For what are you sorry?”

Dean wrapped his arms around himself, scratching an imaginary itch on his shoulder. “I thought this was... I mean, you look...” Dean sighed, “and you smell so good.” Dean snapped his jaw shut as his face flushed in embarrassment. He didn't mean to admit that out loud. He wasn't demonstrating what a good submissive would. He shouldn't have pulled Castiel toward him. He should have thanked him for noticing he had cleaned.

Castiel reached out slowly to cradle Dean's head in his palm. “We have much to discuss. I thought you would like to eat first, but maybe I was wrong.”

Dean shrugged. He didn't think he could eat a bite until his nerves died down. He wanted desperately to understand Castiel's mixed signals and hoped that their talk would answer his questions.

Castiel swept his hand down Dean's arm until it settled on the small of his back. “OK, then. Let us sit and talk.” Castiel allowed Dean to lead them to the living room, where Dean chose to tuck himself into the far corner of the couch. Castiel joined him, leaving a cushion's space between them. He used the throw pillow as a table and laid out the contract. Nothing like a legal document to break the ice.

Leaving the paperwork untouched, Castiel broke into a description of _typical_ Dominant/submissive relationships. He touched on the misunderstandings and stereotypes that the relationship was only about sex and pain. He carefully avoided the terms _slave_ and _master_ , fearing they would only bring about memories of Dean's experiences at Bar A. His voice was calm and steady as he broached the subject of their expectations for the relationship. Castiel informed Dean about the importance and relevance of contract negotiation for D/s relationships, to map out these expectations and present clear boundaries. Since they would be exploring BDSM kink together, in addition to engaging in a dating relationship, Castiel explained the benefits of having a contract with each other. He asked Dean if they had something similar at the nightclub.

Dean chewed his lip with a frown. He shook his head and tentatively reached for the document. Catching himself before grabbing the paperwork, Dean looked up at Castiel patiently. Castiel warmed at Dean's unsolicited act of submission. “Please,” Castiel encouraged Dean to read through the paperwork. “This is only a draft, an outline of what a contract could include. When you are through, I would be happy to answer any questions you may have.”

Dean knew he was a slow reader, and his eyes jumped over the page with excitement. His brain skipped more words than it absorbed, forcing him to read and reread paragraphs until the content stuck. Dean followed beneath the type with his fingers, in an effort to focus and also to show Castiel that he was in fact reading. 

When it seemed like Dean had read his fill, Castiel touched his hand. Dean drew his eyes away from the contract. “I was reading a few articles online about what a BDSM relationship is supposed to be. Honesty is a big part of that. So, I want to tell you upfront that I don't think I'm ready to sign a contract.” Dean took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

Castiel sat across from Dean, his head cocked to one side. He wanted to assure Dean that he too felt it was too soon for a formal contract signing, that he would never pressure him into anything. The presence of a sample contract was meant to help facilitate discussion only. He was happy that Dean took the initiative to seek the information he needed and had a list of websites and chat rooms he would recommend. But before distracting Dean with his own ramblings, Castiel wanted to know what he was holding back. “Dean, please continue.”

With a crooked smile, Dean rolled his eyes. “I had hoped this was a date.” 

Castiel gave Dean's hand a light squeeze, “I still retain that hope. I have really enjoyed getting to know you and I'd like to continue to do so... whether or not we decide to engage in a d/s relationship.” He rubs his thumb along the crease of Dean's palm. “How do you feel?”

Dean sighed, but was smiling. “Confused, excited. I'm happy you decided to come over. I do have some questions though.”

“Go on.”

“Is submission a kink of yours? Or a fetish? Like, can you get off on vanilla sex too?” Dean's face was beet red as he spoke, but he was glad to get it off his chest.

Castiel answered thoughtfully. “It has been both a kink and a fetish at different times in my life. Currently, I am not sure. I am attracted to you, without doubt... I think it would be best if we continued to date, grow to know each other, and see where it takes us. I will never ask you to be more or less than who you are. I will never cross a boundary you have set. I only ask that you be yourself, not who you think I want you to be. Is that understood?”

Dean nodded. 

“More questions or are you ready to eat?”

Dean rubbed his hands together with an idea, “Can we do both?”

Rising to his feet, Castiel answered, “Of course.” He watched in confusion as Dean grabbed a pillow from the couch, pulled it briefly to his chest, then replaced it. Castiel's brow came together in a deep crease. “What was that?”

Dean's hand played over the pillow's fringe. “I'll tell you over dumplings.” He smiled and walked to Castiel. He reached out to pull him forward by his jacket, this time not hesitating to lean in and rest their foreheads together. “Did I mention that I am really happy this is a date?”

“I managed to get that impression.” He knocked their foreheads together playfully.

Dean gave a little chuckle before stepping away. “Hungry?” Castiel hummed affirmative. He walked to the kitchen and immediately looted the bags of food. There were containers of vegetables, meats, noodles, rice, and sauces. “No dumplings?” Dean's smile looked more like a tease, “Guess that conversation will have to wait for another time.”

Castiel smiled to himself, knowing that Dean would soon find the box of dumplings in the second bag. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to multiply and migrate through his chest. Castiel looked on in wonderment. He hadn't enjoyed anyone's flirtations in quite some time. Certainly Meg's attempts at work could not compare to the way Dean made him feel. Just being in Dean's company accelerated his heart-rate and caused delicious warmth to course through his veins.

Coming up to stand beside Dean, Castiel asked about silverware. At Dean's response he fished through the kitchen drawer to retrieve a pair of forks and knives. The sound of a small gasp alerted him that Dean had discovered the box of dumplings. “Find something you like?” It was Castiel's turn to tease.

Dean set the counter for two and moved to open the containers. “Would you like something to drink?”

Castiel glanced at the clock, 11:15PM. “That coffee smells good, but I'll have water for now.” 

Dean grabbed a pitcher of water from the fridge and filled their glasses. He settled into the seat next to Castiel, but it didn't feel right. He knew if their conversation went well, he wouldn't be sitting on furniture at all. He grabbed his stool and brought it to the other side of the counter anyway. For as long as this was a date (and not a scene), Dean wanted to sit across from his companion. With a contented sigh, Dean sat down again and smiled up at Castiel. 

“You had something to say,” Castiel served several steamed dumplings to each of their plates.

Dean grabbed one with his fingers and popped it full in his mouth. He started to speak as he chewed, feeling more comfortable broaching the subject when he felt his words may not be understood.

Castiel grit his teeth and frowned. He could stand the teasing, unsolicited affectionate gestures, and minor statements of defiance. He found them attractive, really. But Dean's table manners were nonexistent and grated on his nerves. He was completely distracted and missed what few words Dean could actually pronounce. 

“Wha-?” Dean's question came out muffled by a mouthful of food. After a hard swallow and a helpful drink of water, Dean tried again. “What'd I do? Why the frowny face?”

Castiel sighed, he much preferred the constraints of a contract where his role was clearly defined. He didn't know how Dean would respond if he tried to correct his actions. Instead of ordering Dean to use his fork, chew with his mouth closed, and never speak with food in his mouth, Castiel pointedly demonstrated what he wished Dean to do. 

Dean quickly got the hint and apologized. “I was reading about different types of BDSM relationships and came across one that I'd like to explore.”

“You have?” Castiel offered Dean a helping of chicken and vegetables. 

“How many partners have you had, Cas?” 

Dean's question came across as innocent enough and Castiel had no problem speaking about his past relationships. “I have been in three d/s relationships. The first only lasted a few weeks and mostly served as a learning experience for both of us. That was the first and only time I scened as a submissive.” Castiel shook his head, “I took a break from the BDSM community for a while. Tried dating vanilla guys and girls, but I couldn't make it work. That was when I believe my Dominance became fetish. My next d/s relationship lasted several months but ended mutually when she left the state for school. We kept in touch for a short while, but both moved on rather quickly.” Castiel took a break for food and drink. “Any questions so far?”

Dean raised his finger and nodded to indicate that he had questions but needed a moment to finish his mouthful of food. “I didn't know you experimented with being Submissive.”

Castiel's face twisted into a smirk. “That's not a question.”

With a roll of his eyes, Dean tried again. “Yeah, well I have a lot of questions... Could you just, you know, tell me more about it?”

“Sure.” Castiel spoke between bites of food, telling Dean about the year his parents disappeared. He knew his story caught Dean off-guard, but the looks he was giving seemed to be colored by sad understanding instead of pity. For the first time when speaking to someone other than his brothers, Castiel felt comfortable talking about that dark time in his life. “I didn't know what I needed to pull myself out of it,” he continued. “A cousin of mine suggested BDSM kink and the thought of being cared for, of not having to make decisions and just _be_ , appealed to me. I entered the relationship during the first meet, wholly naïve. About two weeks later I left feeling humiliated. But I learned a lot in practice. I discovered how I wanted to conduct myself as a Dom and what I was looking for in a Submissive. During my vanilla experiments I admitted there was plenty left to learn and did as much research into the world of BDSM as I could. I am delighted to hear that you are searching for your own answers. I can give you a list of websites and chat rooms that have helped me over the years.”

Dean nodded along, genuinely interested in the conversation. The way Castiel spoke about his past was matter-of-fact, with little emotion conveyed in his voice or body language. He asked more specifically about Castiel's first time Dominating. Castiel shared openly about Anna and her penchant for rope. 

“So you're bisexual?”

“I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation,” Castiel stated plainly. “However, to clarify, Anna and I did not have a sexual relationship. She preferred to be kept as a pet.” Castiel watched as Dean's eyes lit up. 

“I've read about that.” Dean pushed himself away from his plate and disappeared behind the counter. Castiel watched with a blank expression as Dean reemerged around the corner slowly, crawling on his hands and knees. Each movement a long stretch of limbs as he made his way to Castiel's feet. “I think I could enjoy being your pet.”

Castiel considered it a moment. Dean was mouthy, opinionated, and inexperienced. He doubted Dean wished for the role Anna assumed in their relationship. Castiel believed he would be much better suited to the role of submissive, with perhaps a few hours of scheduled puppy play per week. Instead of shooting down the idea outright, Castiel offered him a trial. “You will kneel at my side at dinner. You will not speak when you are on your knees. You will eat what I provide.” Castiel looked down at Dean's upturned face. “After we eat, I will tell you when to stand. You will no longer be my pet. And we will return to the couches to speak.”

Dean was beautiful and compliant, looking up at him with his bright green eyes. He didn't dare say a word. 

Castiel speared a piece of broccoli and tested Dean's willingness to obey. The floor looked spotless, but Castiel decided against dropping the food onto the tile. He reached the fork down and held it steady in front of Dean's mouth. Dean eyed the food, but returned his gaze to Castiel. He waited patiently for permission. “Eat.” Dean opened his mouth and used his teeth to pull the broccoli floret from the metal tines. They repeated this process with snap peas, carrots, and water chestnuts. Castiel expected Dean to become bored, embarrassed, or to whine that his knees were aching without a pillow beneath him. But bite after bite Dean continued to look contented, like he really enjoyed his place at Castiel's feet. 

He was impressed that Dean hadn't given up. Castiel had momentarily forgotten that Dean was the same man who knelt on a stage several nights per week for nearly a year. He remembered Dean's resistance to safe-word and swept his eyes over Dean's body more carefully this time, searching for signs of discomfort. Holding out half an egg roll to Dean, Castiel slid off his stool to make a closer assessment. Despite the temptation to look at what Castiel was doing, Dean took small bites of the egg roll and kept his eyes trained on Castiel's fingers. If Dean were naked, Castiel would see the redness of his knees against the tile. He would know that they were becoming bruised and painful. But without that indicator, nothing about Dean's posture and expression gave Castiel any hint that he was uncomfortable. Dean sat back on his feet with his back held straight and his hands flat on his thighs. 

Returning to his seat, Castiel reached a hand out to rest on Dean's head. A soft purr rose from Dean's throat as he nuzzled into Castiel's touch. Castiel chuckled. _No, not puppy play, then. You see yourself as a cat._ Castiel pet the side of Dean's face and rubbed his knuckles beneath his chin. “Good kitty.” 

Castiel knew the moment Dean became aroused during their play as he seemed to be caught by surprise. Dean's expression changed from delight to want at the words of praise and Castiel could see the outline of his excitement through his pants. Dean's purr grew deeper as he rubbed his cheek against Castiel's wrist, as if scent-marking. Castiel finished the other half of the egg roll and closed up the containers of food. Scratching behind Dean's ear affectionately, Castiel stood up to clear the plates. He placed the leftovers in the fridge and the dirty dishes in the sink to wash. 

It wasn't a coincidence that Castiel bought more food than they could eat. He remembered that Dean was struggling to make ends meet with his job at the garage and he wanted to provide for him in whatever way he could. Castiel was startled by how fiercely he wanted to care for Dean; and he thrilled at the willingness to submission Dean had displayed tonight. At his feet, Castiel felt Dean shifting his weight and knew he must be uncomfortable. He brought himself down to Dean's height and gave Dean's hair a few lingering strokes. Dean nuzzled into the touch greedily. He thrived on the affection and wanted more. His enthusiasm did not go unnoticed. Castiel adjusted himself on one knee and held Dean's head in his hands. He gently rolled Dean's earlobes between his fingers. “Kitty, go lay down. Daddy has to finish washing up.” He briefly pressed his lips against Dean's forehead.

Dean released a small noise that could have been a whine and his eyes became sad. Castiel wondered if Dean wanted to end their playtime; after all, dinner was technically over. He gave Dean the choice. “If you want to, you can stand and I'll know that means you're ready to stop. If not, go be a good kitty and lay by the couch.”

Castiel watched Dean move gingerly toward the living room, still on all fours. It was nearly midnight, but Castiel had no desire to leave anytime soon. As he washed and dried the dishes from dinner, Castiel wondered how much longer Dean would like to be a pet. He wrapped some ice in a clean dishtowel and brought it to the couch for Dean's knees. He found Dean sitting up, his legs stretched along the couch, reading the contact again. Dean folded his legs to give room for Castiel. Castiel slid beside him, lifting Dean's legs to rest over his lap. He iced Dean's knees as Dean continued to flip through the paperwork. 

“Can I keep this?” Dean asked without looking up. He chewed the inside of his lip as he considered each clause.

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel held the ice to his knee and stroked his shin over the pants. “I can e-mail the document to you as an attachment if you'd like.”

“OK.” Dean dropped the contract onto the coffee table and reached for Castiel's hand. Castiel gave it freely. “If you're open to some serious rewrites of that contract, I think it could be really valuable for us.”

Castiel nodded, “What would you like to include?”

Dean hummed. “I want to include... a time frame so that we can tell the difference between our dating relationship and the D/s stuff. Also, pet play rules and expectations. And I read something about the importance of routine for a submissive. So, I'd like to have some sort of schedule of expectations specific to my time as your submissive.”

Castiel smiled, “What else?”

“Eventually, I'd like to explore playing the Dominant,” Dean admitted seriously. “I would like to do that within our relationship, but I understand if that makes you uncomfortable.” He gave Castiel's hand a gentle squeeze.

Castiel gave no indication that he would accept or deny that request. “Any ideas regarding the sexual aspects of the relationship?”

Dean wagged his eyebrows and laughed. “I have plenty of ideas about the sexual aspects of our relationship.”

With a raise of his own eyebrow, Castiel admonished, “In regard to the contract, please.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean's laughter faded, “In regard to the contract, I don't think we should enter any sex play during our D/s time until we are ready for that kind of commitment in our dating relationship. Like you said, the D/s relationship does not have to be about sex.” Dean watched Castiel's face for a reaction and was pleased to see the man's lips curl into a soft smile. 

“I agree.” Castiel moved the ice to Dean's other knee. “I can draw up the amendments and send you a copy. You'll be able to edit the contract again before we sign. Or perhaps you feel more comfortable drawing up the next draft yourself?”

Dean shrugged. “I'll probably mark up this one to sort out my thoughts. But it might make more sense if you write up the next draft. You're more familiar with the terminology anyway.” His knees felt stiff and he groaned as he stretched. 

Castiel framed Dean's knee with his hand, pressing his fingertips into the muscle of his thigh. “How are you feeling?” 

Dean yawned with a lazy grin, “Good.” 

Castiel squeezed his hand around Dean's knee, but held back from pressing the bruised flesh. “Don't lie to me, Dean. Never.”

“My knees hurt, yeah. But overall, I do feel good.” Dean's eyes met Castiel's with sincerity, “The whole day was good, once I knew you were coming home to me. You do something to me, Cas...” His eyes got a far-away look in them as he considered their night was coming to its end. “It's gonna hurt when I see you go tonight.” His mouth screwed up in a pinched frown. At the thought of Castiel leaving, Dean's stomach dropped. 

Castiel shifted away and gingerly removed Dean's legs from his lap. Dean held his breath, dreading that Castiel would leave immediately. Instead, Castiel nestled against the arm rest. “Come here.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief as he adjusted his position. Castiel guided him to lie with his head in his lap and placed the wet towel on the end table beside him. “Kitty finally gets his cuddles,” he half-joked.

“No.” Castiel carded his fingers through Dean's hair, massaging his head intermittently. “These cuddles are for you, Dean.”

Dean moaned and snuggled into the bend of Castiel's hip. Castiel's hands continued to move in slow patterns over his scalp. “Christ that's good.” His eyes grew heavy as his breathing evened out and slowed. He knew Castiel was saying something as he drifted to sleep, but he couldn't hang onto consciousness long enough to make it out. Dean's eyes slipped closed. He tried to mumble something back, but he doubted that his brain was connected to any part of his body anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel sat in front of his computer, frowning at the twenty-page document. As much as the formality and detail gave him comfort, he feared it would scare Dean away. He worked to strip the contract down to it's bare bones and replaced the legal language with less foreboding terms. He wanted to include everything that Dean liked and pair it with the kind of relationship they could both find gratifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Foul language, Dean in a foul mood  
> (Please let me know if you see something that should have a tag or warning.)

Trust  
Chapter 4

Castiel remained with Dean on the couch until his back was sore. He didn't realize how much time had passed just stroking Dean's head, neck, and shoulders while he slept. Every once in a while Dean's slack mouth would grunt something incoherent before nuzzling against Castiel again. Dean looked peaceful, and he hated to disturb that.

Castiel's back and bladder revved up their protest and eventually he had to slide himself out from under Dean. He was careful to disturb his body as little as possible and snuck a pillow under his head to take the place of his lap. Castiel gave Dean's face another caress before excusing himself to use the bathroom. Passing through the hall, Castiel saw that it was nearly 2AM. He sent up a small prayer of gratitude for the weekend to the powers that be. Guessing that Dean probably had to work at the garage on Saturdays, Castiel decided to get Dean into bed. After finishing in the bathroom, Castiel prepared a glass of water for each of them. He brought them both to the bedroom before going back to retrieve Dean. 

The bedroom was smaller than Castiel was accustomed, furnished with only a tall dresser, corner desk, chair, and long twin bed. Castiel set the waters on the desk and turned down the blankets. The sheets were soft, broken-in due to years of use. Well-worn but still in good condition. In fact, Castiel noticed that everything in Dean's home was well cared for. Even the hotel style flip clock on his desk didn't have a scratch on it. He checked the clock for an alarm, but none was set. He'd have to wake Dean to ask if he had work in the morning. Castiel took a drink from his cup and brought it with him as he walked back to the living room.

Dean hadn't moved from his spot, still curled around the pillow, asleep. Castiel hesitated to wake him, but there was no reason why Dean should miss work. Castiel sat on the edge of the couch and dragged his forefinger down Dean's nose. He did this a few times before Dean twitched under the ticklish touch. Dean scrunched his nose and swatted at the annoyance. “Time for bed,” Castiel informed him.

A slow smile spread across Dean's face at the sound of Castiel's voice. He blinked himself awake and squirmed his way into a seated position. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Castiel stated. “Or very early.” 

“Oh,” Dean stretched his arms over his head and yawned with gusto. “You should call for a ride. I don't feel comfortable with you walking home in the middle of the night.” Standing from the couch, Dean twisted his body causing a series of pops and cracks from his spine. “Do you need some cab fare?” 

“I thought I might wait out morning here,” Castiel's response was met with Dean's noncommittal shrug and a glance toward the bedroom. “On the couch,” Castiel clarified. “Like you said. Wandering the city at 2AM is not something I look forward to. Unless it would be an imposition.” 

“Naw, it's not a problem. Stay. I've got an extra set of blankets around here somewhere.” With another twist, Dean saw that the kitchen had been cleared and taken care of. He turned back to Castiel, “You cleaned up?”

Castiel nodded. “You would do the same for me, I think.”

Dean gave his best bitch-face, as if to say _duh_. The small arch in Castiel's eyebrow twitched a warning. 

“I'll be right back,” Dean excused himself to the hall closet where the spare linens were neatly folded and separated into sets. He grabbed the floral pattern sheets that were sized for the pull-out couch, stacked a knitted blanket on top of them, and carried a pillow under his arm. Returning to the living room with his arms full, Dean called for Castiel's help. “Can you take the cushions off for me?”

Castiel scooped the linens from Dean's arms and placed them on the coffee table. He then worked with Dean to strip the couch and unfold the bed. Stretching the sheets over the thin mattress, Dean caught Castiel's eye. “Thank you.” They shared a soft look between them and Dean wasn't sure how to respond. Usually a look like that would be interpreted as an invitation to a different kind of sleepover. Dean, however, understood that Castiel would be much more direct if sex was what he wanted. 

“I guess I'll leave you to it.” Dean placed the pillow and knitted blanket at the foot of the bed and walked toward the bedroom. Though his lips were curled in a smile, Castiel didn't miss the slump in his posture. “I gotta be at the garage by noon,” he spoke over his shoulder. “G'nigh-.” Dean stopped short as he felt a pair of arms circle his waist. Castiel pressed his chest against Dean's back, pulling them together. Feeling the comfort of Castiel's warmth, Dean closed his eyes and sank into the hug. He held onto Castiel's arms and hummed his approval. “Caaas.” Dean dragged out the name in a whine, pulling Castiel's arms tighter around him. 

Hooking his chin over his companion's shoulder, Castiel spoke quietly, his breath ghosting over Dean's neck. “Good night, Dean. I'll see you in the morning.”  
…

Dean woke before his alarm sounded. The blankets had tangled around his legs and it took a bit of skill to free himself. After frantically kicking at his sheet, Dean lay on his back and listened for any clues about where his house guest could be. Hearing only the familiar sounds of his apartment, Dean guessed Castiel was still asleep. There was no need to worry about whether or not he had left during the night. After all, Castiel had said himself that they would see each other in the morning. Smiling, Dean grabbed a clean change of clothes and set himself on a mission to shower. 

He washed quickly, not wanting to hog the bathroom for too long. After drying off and getting dressed, Dean figured he had time for a smooth shave. He had just replaced the razor and foam in the medicine cabinet when there came a light knock on the bathroom door. “Just a sec,” Dean ran a towel over his chin and unlocked the handle. Pulling the door open, Dean found himself breathless at the sight of Castiel with bed head. 

“Morning.” Castiel shuffled into the bathroom only half-awake. He looked freshly fucked for a walk of shame. Dean blinked to keep from staring and slipped out of the bathroom.

Castiel was still dressed in last night's clothes, which Dean sort of felt guilty about. In his drawers he sought out a pair of jeans and a shirt to offer Castiel. He figured they were about the same size. Returning to the bathroom, he could hear the shower running. Respecting his guest's privacy, he knocked a few times and left the clothes on the floor.

In the kitchen, Dean looked through the pantry for something to eat. There were different types of cereal and granola bars, but it didn't feel right to feed Castiel from a box when he had gone out of his way to buy a weeks worth of food the night before. Plus, technically, Castiel spent the night. So it was the perfect excuse for Dean to prepare his morning-after pancakes. Dean prided himself on his ability to cook two things, burgers and breakfast. Armed with a whisk and a skillet, Dean confidently whipped up a batch of cinnamon pancakes and hot apple compote. On a good day, when he got the recipe _just right,_ the smell of cinnamon and apples lingered in the rooms for hours. He could close his eyes and image a pie baking in the oven. Dean loved pie, but he found it impossible to master. After dozens of frustrating, soggy, burnt, rubbery, sour attempts, Dean had finally given up trying.

Dean bounced around the kitchen, pouring batter and mixing the small pot of apples. He felt happy, even as the time ticked closer toward good-bye. He hoped Castiel wouldn't turn down a hot breakfast, thus extending their date for at least a little longer. 

Castiel emerged from the bathroom looking refreshed. He sniffed the air and came up behind Dean. “Mmm. Delicious.” Running his hands up and down Dean's arms, Castiel pressed his mouth into his shoulder. It wasn't quite a kiss, but it was close. 

Castiel's mouth against his shoulder felt nice, great even, but it was a distraction and Dean hated for the pancakes to burn. Dean shimmied him off, playfully asking, “Me or breakfast?” 

Castiel grunted and grabbed the plates from the drying rack. He set their places across from each other and watched Dean flip the last of the pancakes. “Did you sleep well?” 

“I did.” Dean answered, carrying a tall plate of pancakes in one hand and the pot of stewed apples in the other. “You?”

“I had a good dream.” Castiel said as he served himself, then Dean. He poured generous helpings of the apple topping over their pancakes. “If this tastes as good as it looks, I may have to stay for breakfast more often.”

Dean blushed and turned his face into his plate. He didn't hesitate to start shoveling fork-fulls of food into his mouth and had gone through two whole pancakes before taking a break to breathe. “What did you dream about?”

Castiel smiled, an honest to goodness, tooth and gum smile, “You.” His blue eyes shone with tenderness and he reached out for Dean's hand. Their fingers interlaced between their plates as if it were a common gesture for them. “It got me thinking. During our scene yesterday. Where was your head at? What were you thinking?”

After another bite of pancake and apples, Dean answered honestly, “I was thinking about what kitty's life was like.”

Castiel nodded, “Tell me about it.”

Dean thought for a moment. “He's a tiger cub,” his eyes peeked through his lashes, unsure if he would be met with ridicule. Castiel gave an encouraging nod, paired with the squeeze of his hand. “He wasn't born in captivity, but he'd been in a cage for as long as he could remember. A man came into his jungle and ripped him away from the life he was born for. He got passed around a lot before he found someone he thought he could trust. A trainer.” Dean's heart was racing and he closed his eyes to catch his breath. He was surprised by how personally the story affected him when he said it out loud. 

“Am I the trainer, Dean?”

“No.” Dean shook his head slowly. “You come later.” With another deep breath, Dean continued. “The trainer tricked him, brought him to a circus. And every day he was allowed out of his cage, but only to be humiliated. A tiger was supposed be grow big and strong, you know? A fierce hunter. But the trainer did something to him. Kept him small, weak. He was scared when the circus got shut down. It was a good thing, probably. The circus had been cruel and not only to him. But it was the only home he ever knew.” Castiel rubbed Dean's hand between his own, watching the lines of his face reflect the desperation of his voice. “He wandered the strange city alone, abandoned. Performed petty tricks for scraps of food and a place to sleep... until one night he was found by another man. The man lifted him off the cold cement and sheltered him in the warmth of his trench coat. The man asked permission, discovered what he liked, and gave him what he needed.” The words hung in the air until Castiel brought their hands to his lips, kissing along the knobs of Dean's knuckles.

“I'll work on the contract today, while you are at work. We can take another look at it whenever you are ready.” Castiel kissed his hand again before returning his attention to his breakfast.  
…

At the garage, Dean was counting down the hours. He had been feeling _off_ since talking to Cas during breakfast. Something about that tiger's story had twisted his stomach in a knot that wouldn't let up. There was plenty to do to keep him busy and he hoped it would be enough to turn his mind from that conversation. He didn't understand why he would say those thoughts out loud to another person. But Castiel made him feel safe, like anything he said mattered and wouldn't be judged. Dean couldn't wait to see him again. If anyone could untangle the knot from his chest, Dean thought it would be Cas.

He couldn't stop himself from pulling out his phone and the near constant time-checks only made the minutes seem to pass more slowly. The phone's screen was nearly coated in grease before Dean resigned to shutting down the phone completely. Dean wiped it off quickly and then set it in his locker to get it out of sight. 

Dean's mood only got worse as the day went on. As he helped Garth remove the dashboard of an older Ford, he grumbled about working on the weekends. And when Garth tried to engage Dean in some controversial small-talk about Chuck Norris and Clint Eastwood, he wasn't having it. Instead of debating with Garth, citing movies as evidence to support his claims as he usually did, Dean snapped. He told Garth that, in no uncertain terms, Eastwood could blow Norris away without sparing a thought about it. Point blank period. End of conversation. 

Garth always had a soft-spot for Dean and didn't take much offense to his attitude. Trying to get on the guy's good-side, Garth let the topic drop and tuned the radio to the classic rock station. When he turned up the volume, Dean scowl softened and he nodded gratefully. The music bounced off the cement walls of the garage making enough noise that surely Bobby would come to complain. So they enjoyed the tunes for as long as they lasted. Surprisingly, with Bobby at the front desk handling customers, he and Garth were able to focus on fixing up the machines in relative peace. 

The music seemed to have a healing quality on Dean's soul as he bobbed his head and mumbled along with the radio. It definitely helped the time pass and Dean actually found himself laughing when Garth started dancing to Charlie Daniels. His gangly limbs flailed all over the place. Dean stopped his work to watch, afraid Garth might hurt himself. 

Their laughter was interrupted by sudden silence. They looked over toward the stereo to see Bobby standing with the unplugged extension cord in his hands. “This is for tools, not music.”

“Rock 'n' roll is an essential part of my thought process,” Dean insisted.

Bobby made a face, “Well, that explains a lot, son.” He pointed at the two of them, “Git back to work. If I gotta come back here again, it'll be to whoop one-a yer asses.” But before returning to the front of the shop, Bobby replaced the stereo plug. He adjusted the music to a reasonable volume and turned to leave.

“Thanks, Bobby!” Dean shouted.

“Don't mention it,” the old grump called back. But it wasn't long before Bobby returned, looking even more miffed than the first time.

Garth and Dean were both hard at work, carefully dropping an engine back into the front end of their current project. Bobby shoved Dean's shoulder and thrust the portable phone at him. “For you. Idjit won't quit calling the front.”

“Who is it?” Dean asked; he dreaded talking to customers with complaints.

“Yer sister.”

Dean grimaced. Bobby only referred to Sam as his sister when his voice had graduated to a high-pitched whine. Dean hesitated as he brought the receiver to his ear. Nothing good would come of this phone call. “Hey, man, what's up?”

“Where have you been? You're not answering your phone now?” Sam sounded like he was pacing and on the verge of hyperventilating. All the good the music had done for Dean's mood vanished in that instant.

“Sam. Bobby just handed me the phone. Obviously, I'm at work. My phone is in my locker.” He snapped at his brother. Dean had spent the majority of his youth caring for and looking after Sam. All of the sudden Sam thinks it's his job to play brother's-keeper? Not happening.

“Oh. Well, I've been texting you for hours. You never called me back...” Sam continued to complain about what a great brother he is to check in on Dean. Of course that progressed into a lecture on what a lousy brother Dean is for ignoring Sam's calls. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yep. Yes, sir. You are incredibly thoughtful to interrupt my workday to complain about what a dick I am. Thanks for the chat.” Dean really wanted to hang up on him, but he couldn't actually bring himself to do it. He'd never turn his back on Sam.

“Dean! Cut it out. I really am calling to see if you're alright. You said you'd call.”

“Since when have I ever enjoyed our little heart-to-hearts?” Dean walked to the corner of the garage to try to move out of his coworkers' earshot. “And on the rare occasion we do sit down for a chick-flick moment, am I ever at work?” 

Sam huffed into the phone, causing irritating static to crackle over the line. “Jesus. I guess I'll just go fuck myself. You know, I haven't heard from you in a week. And in case you forgot, last time you called me you were crying, asshole.”

“Yeah,” Dean remembered calling Sam when he was upset. The week he decided to quit Alistair's was intense, but he certainly had not been crying. “I gotta get back to work.” Dean's thumb hovered over the button to end the call.

“Wait! You never told me if you went through with it. Did you really quit that bar-tending gig?” Sam thought that Dean depended on the tips he earned at the bar to help pay his bills. He had no idea of his work as an on-stage submissive.

“Yeah, I quit.” Dean tried to relieve some of Sam's worry about his finances, “I picked up extra shifts at the garage though. I should be good.” He preferred to think of his statements as wishful thinking instead of an outright lie. 

“You sure? I have some money saved up. I thought I'd come visit over the holidays, but I can come up earlier.”

There was no way that Dean was going to let himself interrupt Sam's schoolwork because he freaked out and quit his more lucrative job. Besides, things were going well at the garage and with Castiel. It wasn't like Sam sleeping on his couch and eating all his food was going to help the situation any. And if Sam was over, then the thing with Castiel might have to end, or at least be put on the shelf a while. None of it appealed to Dean and he insisted Sam stay put in California.  
… 

Castiel sat in front of his computer, frowning at the twenty-page document. As much as the formality and detail gave him comfort, he feared it would scare Dean away. He worked to strip the contract down to it's bare bones and replaced the legal language with less foreboding terms. He wanted to include everything that Dean liked and pair it with the kind of relationship they could both find gratifying. 

He outlined the basic terms and the description of their roles. When it came to the time and place, Castiel became stuck. Dean expressed that he would like if their D/s relationship were somehow separate from their dating relationship. The division of roles was unsettling. On the whole, Castiel's Dominant position was not a matter of role play and he was surprised by the amount of leniency and submission he had already displayed to Dean during their dates already. At the heart of things, however, Castiel wanted to make Dean happy and to help him learn about and accept himself in whatever ways needed. He added a rule to help them differentiate between their relationships, that Dean would refer to him as Sir or Castiel during D/s days and could use whatever nicknames he chose during their vanilla dates.

Castiel set down a rough draft of their schedule to include Saturday – Tuesday as “dating” days, with Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday as “D/s” days. He included a paragraph that allowed for Dean to request “kitten play” at any time during their dating schedule (limited to one hour per day), with one hour of “pet play” on each of the D/s days. Castiel thought it best to remain at Dean's apartment during the D/s days so that he could feel safe within familiar surroundings. Also, Castiel wrote in that he would stay overnight with Dean on all D/s days to ensure proper aftercare, unless otherwise requested and agreed upon. 

Castiel combed through the verbiage and eliminated all talk of sexual acts. Castiel resigned himself to amending the contract if there was such a time where a sexual relationship developed. He also added a provision for “downtime,” a meeting they would conduct together twice per week where Dean could review the relationship and express his opinion without the fear of retaliation or penalty. It would be a time of discovery for both of them where they could discuss areas of their relationship that needed improvement. Castiel understood that downtime could be invaluable in even the most experienced D/s relationship. The contract was viable for one month, during which time they would agree to the terms of their trial/training period. Castiel poured over the document for hours until he was satisfied that Dean would approve.  
…

That night, Dean invited Castiel to his apartment immediately after work. He couldn't wait to escape the turmoil of the day with Castiel's company. He shouldn't have been so short with Sam, but it had become a pattern between them over the past year. Since Sam moved to California and Dean walked onto Alistair's stage, things hadn't been the same. Sam was moving on with his life, his career. It was finally Dean's turn to put himself first and Castiel made it clear that he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Sure he kept a clean home and stayed in good physical shape, but emotionally Dean was a mess. He hadn't opened up and given himself to another person since he dropped out of high school. When the mood struck and Dean found himself craving the company of a warm body, he preferred the superficiality of going home with a stranger. No expectations, no heartache. Afraid of being let down, Dean had ignored his desire to find someone he could depend on.

Castiel arrived and was everything Dean needed. Without the roles of Dominant and submissive outlined yet, Dean drew Cas into a hug the moment they met at his door. Just a few deep breaths of Castiel's scent was enough to settle his nerves. Scent was always the strongest sense tied to Dean's memories. And the memories associated with Castiel were filled with safety and warmth.  
...

Later that night, Dean sat with Castiel on the couch to negotiate the contract. Dean agreed with mostly everything, pouting only a little at the exclusion of his own exploration into the role of the Dominant. Castiel assured him that if the trial month went well, there was no reason why they shouldn't negotiate a new contract for a longer period of time. Dean smiled at that. He hadn't committed himself to a serious relationship in a while and he liked hearing that Castiel was already thinking about staying together beyond the one month trial. 

Castiel clarified that, because Saturday – Tuesday were “vanilla dating”, they would not necessarily be seeing each other every day. Dean didn't comment on that stipulation, though he enjoyed seeing Castiel every day so far. It was the one-hour limit on pet play that annoyed Dean. Despite all of the articles he read about the danger of losing oneself while playing as a pet, the role still attracted Dean. Castiel encouraged him to adhere to the one-hour limit during the first month and offered to renegotiate that during the contract renewal, as needed. 

Dean returned to the first page of the document and pointed out a discrepancy. “Here it says that I'm only to call you Sir or Castiel.”

“Correct.” Castiel knew the contract by heart and did not need to look at the specific paragraph to verify.

“But during pet play you called yourself Daddy, remember?” Dean chewed at his lip, a habit Castiel found equally attractive and displeasing. He liked to see Dean submissive, not uncertain.

Castiel reached out slowly and dragged his thumb over Dean's lip, freeing it from his teeth. “It is true. I found myself feeling rather paternal toward Kitty. However, we had not discussed your feelings on the matter.”

Dean sucked his lip back into his mouth to see if he could taste the remnants of Castiel's touch. “I don't know, it wasn't bad in the moment.” It's too strange for Dean to admit he liked it, just yet. _Friggen daddy issues, no wonder I ended up on Alistair's stage._ And that sparked back his shitty mood from earlier. His worries returned full-force. He wondered if he was opening up to Castiel too quickly, if he had been too harsh with Sam. He worried about making next month's rent payment and whether or not it made sense to keep working at the garage instead of finding a better-paid job.

Castiel saw Dean's expression change and attributed the shift to their present conversation, “There is no need to worry over it. I can understand if that title bothers you.” 

Dean sighed and pushed aside his other thoughts temporarily. “It doesn't. It's... just don't ask me to call you Daddy, OK?” Dean was conflicted. Although he thought it was sweet when Castiel referred to himself as the kitten's daddy, calling Castiel Daddy felt very wrong. He didn't want a father; fathers let you down. He wanted someone stable and predictable, someone he could depend on. He wanted a boyfriend. And beyond that, Dean admitted to himself, he wanted a Dom. He wanted to belong to Castiel.

“OK.” Castiel handed Dean a pen and gave permission for him to write on the page.

Dean took the pen with a word of thanks. Castiel really did seem to value his input in their relationship. The realization eased any lingering doubts about giving control over to the man. After all, Castiel was the one who had spent most of the day writing a contract that was essentially an outline for how he would care for him. Dean scribbled in the margins, making the appropriate edits. “If we change our dating days to Monday – Friday," he suggested, “we could spend all weekend together as Dom and sub.”

Castiel drew his lips into a line and countered, “Monday – Thursday for dating. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday for D/s. Downtime before we part on Thursdays and Sundays.”

Dean hummed and corrected their schedule, “Deal.” He held out the contract for Castiel to retype and sign.

Castiel received the pages and placed them aside. Bringing his hand to Dean's cheek, he searched his hazel eyes for any uncertainty. Finding none, Castiel shook his head in disbelief. “You are incredible,” he admitted to Dean and himself. 

Dean smiled as if it was all he could do to refrain from leaning in and kissing Castiel. His heart thumped in his chest, anticipating the first touch of his lips against his own. Instead of a kiss, Castiel dragged his thumb across Dean's lips again. The touch was both slower and more rough than the first time. Dean's eyes grew dark as his mind filled with dirty images. With a mischievous grin, Dean winked at Castiel. His teeth chomped the air, in mock threat to Castiel's fingers as they made another pass over his mouth.

His antics drew a low chuckle from Castiel as he brought his hand back to his side. “ _Incredible_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading, commenting, subscribing, and leaving kudos!  
> I hope you continue to enjoy the story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: 1st half is almost entirely kitten play. The 2nd half of this chapter is almost entirely spanking/punishment.

Trust  
Chapter 5

 

The contract was edited and signed; the men agreed to the trial with option to renegotiate and renew after 30 days.  
...

Sunday morning found Castiel standing before Dean, holding his head in his hands. His thumbs gently framed Dean's face; his fingers stroked the short hairs behind Dean's ears. He looked into Dean's eyes with a soft expression. “I will tell you everything you need to know and do. There's no reason for you to be scared. I promise I will never _hurt_ you.” He pulled Dean into a firm hug, holding him a moment. “Safe-word?”

Dean knew what it meant when Castiel said he wouldn't hurt him. It was agreed that Dean would be subject to some pain, but never more than he could handle and never in a way that Dean said he didn't like. That was the importance of the safe-word. To make sure Dean always had a way to tell Castiel that they needed to stop. “Kansas.” Dean announced his safe-word and tightened his hold around Castiel's waist. He breathed in the cool, fresh scent of his skin and cologne. “Ready.” He pulled away from Castiel and averted his gaze. 

Castiel ran a hand through Dean's hair again. “That's my good boy.”

Dean leaned into the touch before it left. As a submissive he knew he wasn't supposed to initiate affection, so he savored whatever touches he received. He struggled to keep from looking up at Castiel. He missed looking into those beautiful blue eyes, wished he could watch Castiel's reactions throughout their play. 

Castiel drew himself up straight, his faced steeled with a pleased expression. “I've laid out clothes for you in the bedroom. Put them on and meet me in the kitchen.” He assessed Dean's compliance as the man followed through with the order without hesitation. Good, so good. Castiel took his time in the kitchen, sifting through the containers of leftover food. For breakfast, he considered which flavors would combine well if re-purposed into a quiche or scramble. After chopping up the stir fry and shrimp into a casserole, Castiel found himself becoming irritated. He saw that fifteen minutes had past since he sent Dean to change, but he hadn't returned as instructed. 

Castiel let out a huff of annoyance before beginning his search for Dean. He called out his name with a tone that conveyed a mix of authority and concern. It did not take long for Castiel to find him. 

Standing in the door frame to the bedroom, Castiel saw the cotton pants and tee shirt still laid out, untouched. Beside the bed, in a messy pile, were the clothes Dean had been wearing to sleep. “Dean,” he called again, opening the door further into the room. The door hit something firm and Castiel entered to look behind it. His head tilted as he took in the sight of Dean tucked in the space between the door and the wall. Instead of changing, Dean had stripped down to his boxers and curled into himself on all fours. Dean glanced over his bare shoulder, eyes squinting up at Castiel with caution. 

Castiel leaned closer, “Kitty?”

Dean's back arched as he shied away from Castiel, pressing himself hard against the wall. He let out an insubstantial growl as Castiel's hand reached toward him. “It's OK, little one,” Castiel whispered, pulling back his hand. He took a few steps backward, giving Dean more room. He noted the way Dean relaxed as he backed off. 

Castiel sat at the foot of the bed considering his next move. He enjoyed the challenge of caring for a pet, but kitten play was rather new to him. He understood that felines were generally more defiant by nature. Of their own mind, kittens often choose to test their master and are less motivated by a need to please. Castiel recalled the information Dean had shared with him about Kitty's back story. At dinner, Kitty trusted him, ate from his hand without trepidation. This was different. Castiel wondered if Dean wanted to play through their first meeting. 

_….one night he was found by another man. The man lifted him off the cold cement and sheltered him within the warm folds of his trench coat. The man asked permission, discovered what he liked, and gave him what he needed._

Castiel moved slowly and pushed himself up from the bed. “You're OK, little one.” Castiel spoke softly as he slipped out of the bedroom to the front door. He took his coat from the hook and shrugged it on. With a brief stop in the kitchen to put away the food and turn off the preheating oven, Castiel made his way back to the bedroom. 

Dean was still behind the door, but his posture had relaxed from fear into a guarded interest. He watched Castiel return to his spot on the bed. With a timid squeak, Dean crawled to the edge of the door. His eyes never left Castiel, studying him for signs of danger. Noting Dean's small show of trust, Castiel slid to the floor and sat cross-legged. He rested his hands on his knees and voiced soothing sounds, encouraging Dean it was safe to approach. 

They continued their stand-off for a long time before Castiel looked at the clock. He reminded himself that he had to keep a close eye on the time to stay within the one-hour limit. Castiel pulled his coat off, becoming over-heated under the layers. He folded the jacket and placed it near his legs. Dean drew nearer, stretching his neck and scenting the air. Castiel recognized Dean's interest of the clothing and held it out to him. Dean shrunk back, but only for a moment. 

With a tired hum, Dean crawled forward. He stopped just out of Castiel's reach and bumped the coat with his face. Sniffing at it, Dean rubbed his face into the fabric. It seemed to intoxicate him as his limbs visibly relaxed. His eyes drifted closed and he moved another foot closer. Distracted by the trench coat, he accidentally brushed against Castiel's hand. Dean froze. His eyes flew up to meet Castiel's, blinking back fear and longing. 

“Shh-h-h.” Castiel held himself still as he hushed Dean's anxieties. “You're OK. I won't hurt you.” Castiel clicked his tongue against the room of his mouth. “May I?” His fingers moved, only slightly, beside Dean's face.

Dean whimpered, his eyes watching the hand. Castiel started slowly, at first only brushing the short hairs over his ear with the tips of his fingers. Dean's trust in him grew exponentially after that. He turned into Castiel's hand, forcing it to smooth the hair over his head and rubbing his cheeks against Castiel's palm. Castiel doted him with caresses and light scratches behind his ears. With each touch, Dean drew himself closer until he was practically in Castiel's lap. Castiel drew the trench coat over Dean's bare shoulders and continued to reassure him with words of comfort.

“When was the last time you had a bath, huh?” Unable to lift Dean from the floor, Castiel coaxed him to the bathroom with generous cuddles after every few feet of progress. 

At the sight of the bathtub Dean let out a wary hiss. “Come now. A beautiful cub needs no fear of water.” Castiel offered a warm embrace and helped Dean over the side. Dean craved Castiel's touch and his skin cooled immediately when Castiel let him go and removed the trench coat. He watched as Castiel took the shower head in his hands, pointing it down and away from Dean as he turned on the faucet. The water surged into the tub louder than he anticipated. Dean was shocked by the thunderous sound and wanted to cover his sensitive ears. He shrunk into the far corner of the bath, shaking. Castiel quickly pulled the knob to switch the source to the shower head. The sound of the spray against the tile was much less intimidating, but Dean's body continued to tremble. 

Castiel used his hand to test the water temperature several times before it felt right. He knelt outside the bathtub with a bottle of shampoo. Still curled into the corner, Dean made it difficult for Castiel to bathe him. The edge of the tub dug into his hip uncomfortably as he leaned forward to shower Dean with the warm water. The position did not lend itself to what Castiel had in mind and he knew he had to get closer.

He locked the shower head back in it's stand, turning the spray against the wall. With his hands now free, Castiel stripped off his outer clothes so they would not ruin. Dressed in his undergarments, he stepped into the bathtub and squatted beside Dean's shivering form. “Shh. I'm right here.” He held out his arms and waited for Dean to accept his touch. Dean melted into his arms, savoring the kind of warmth that he hadn't realized he had been missing. It was not only the body heat he craved, but the embrace disclosed Castiel's deep concern for him. Dean couldn't remember a time when he had enjoyed another person's touch like this. He had become used to drunken hook-ups and one-night-stands. Strangers using each other for counterfeit intimacy. Dean didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to consider how so much of Kitty's story mirrored his real life. 

Dean remained on his hands and knees as Castiel lathered his head and body with soap and water. The warm water ran over his skin in rivulets as Castiel's tender touch kneaded the muscles of his back. His hands slipped across Dean's shoulders and down his arms, rinsing the shampoo and body wash toward the drain. Dean couldn't help from leaning into Castiel, soaking the other man's clothing in the process. But Castiel put up no form of protest. Instead, he encouraged Dean to find support as he needed it. 

“So good, little one. Such a good kitty. That's it, now. I've got you.” Castiel gave them both a final once-over with the shower spray before turning off the water. He was tempted to draw out the scene longer, not wanting to interrupt the development of trust between them. Dean may not have been aware of how much time had lapsed since he transitioned into pet play, but Castiel knew that the one-hour limit he placed on pet play was over. 

Castiel held out a clean towel and invited Dean back into his arms. Taking each of his limbs in hand, Castiel dried his arms, legs, and torso gently. Respecting Dean's show of modesty, Castiel carefully avoided the areas covered by Dean's boxers. He noticed Dean's line of sight had drifted to the counter, where Castiel had tossed the trench coat aside. 

Dropping down to a knee, Castiel took Dean's face into his hands. He carded his fingers through Dean's silky, wet hair in farewell. “I'll see you tomorrow, Kitty.” He placed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Can you find Dean for me? It's time for him to get dressed and to help me make breakfast.”  
…

During dinner, Dean knelt on a cushion at Castiel's feet without instruction. His eyes never left the floor. Even in the short time since they had defined their roles, Dean was proving to be a fast learner. Castiel used a fork to feed him dumplings and sticky coconut chicken. Dean imagined what it would be like to be fed directly from Castiel's fingers, to lick the sweet sauce from his skin. He yearned for Monday to arrive so that he could act out the fantasies that have been running through his head all weekend. 

While they ate, Castiel asked questions about Dean's week at work to which Dean gave honest answers. Castiel gave varying statements of praise and remarked at how smart Dean was to be able to diagnose and treat so many different kinds of vehicle. Dean didn't feel like his skill as a mechanic was anything to brag about, and it felt weird to have Castiel describe his work like he was some doctor that could heal machines. Doctors and lawyers made a real difference in people's lives, not a grease monkey like Dean. That's why everyone was always so impressed with Sam, anyway. He got himself into college and was making something of himself. He expressed as much to Castiel. 

Dean blushed when Castiel grabbed his jaw and pulled their faces close, demanding that he not put himself down. The intensity of his command startled Dean. He thought Castiel was being a little over-dramatic, but he went along with it because that's what he knew he was supposed to do. 

“Yes, sir,” he answered quickly, but the words came with a lick of sarcasm and a roll of Dean's eyes. _Shit._ He didn't catch himself in time, the movement second nature whenever he spoke to his boss, his brother, or a pushy customer over the phone. 

Castiel stood from the counter abruptly and every muscle in Dean's body tensed. Everything had been going so well. They had agreed upon and signed the contact the night before. Dean was a good submissive all night, curled up at Castiel's feet while they watched TV. Castiel accepted and played along with Dean's improvised kitten play just this morning. They were complimenting each other already, working together better than either of them would have thought possible. Of course Dean knew he would be the one to screw it up.

Castiel set the plate of food down on the floor in front of Dean. His height had never felt so intimidating. “Do not roll your eyes.” His graveled voice was firm. “Feed yourself. This is the first part of your punishment. Then you will receive a spanking for your disrespect and your punishment will be complete.” He grabbed his glass from the counter and walked away, leaving Dean without the opportunity to apologize.

Dean knew he had messed up. Sir was a title of respect and authority, and by no means should it ever be paired with such a insulting expression. He felt that it deserved worse punishment than this and wondered if Castiel was letting him off easy because they were just getting started. Castiel explained how punishments were supposed to strengthen the relationship, but Dean couldn't see how. He sulked as he ate, scooping up the gooey chicken with his fingers. Sucking his fingers clean did not hold the same appeal as when he imagined doing the same to Castiel. He ate even though his appetite was gone.

Dean didn't understand why he couldn't be a pet all of the time. The one hour limit was far too short. Dean thought he would have preferred to spend the entire day getting to Castiel through the eyes of a pet. He was a good kitty; Castiel had said so. Dean would prove that he could be a good submissive as well. He had agreed to a trial of one month and hoped that during the training period his new position would become more natural. That's what the training was about, Castiel had explained. They would work together to replace Dean's undesirable habits with new ones that were more to Castiel's liking. 

When he had finished eating, Dean hesitated to lift his gaze and look around the room. The apartment was quiet; the only sound came from the A/C as it buzzed in the window. Castiel was sitting on the couch, absorbed in something he was reading on his tablet. Dean frowned at he thought that he no longer held Castiel's interest. He had broken a key rule of their relationship and Castiel was punishing him with more than just a spanking. He was ignoring Dean and withholding his company as well. Dean turned his eyes back to the floor and lifted the plate over his head. He noisily slid it onto the counter, trying to gain Castiel's attention. 

It worked. Castiel came to the cushion and stood over Dean. He huffed a breath through his nose before extending a hand to help Dean to his feet. Dean took his hand immediately, greedy for any touch Castiel would give. 

Dean was tempted to thank him, hug him, beg forgiveness; but he knew that there were strict rules about when he was allowed to talk. Castiel would give him permission when he was ready to do so. 

At Castiel's request, Dean cleared the counter and washed the dishes. “When you've completed these tasks, I want you to come to the sofa. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean washed the dishes thoroughly to prove that he could complete his assignments well. He could be good, even as a sub. Dean set the last plate in the drying rack and then walked to where Castiel was sitting on the couch. Castiel was sitting back, his left arm draped along the armrest. His expression was eerily calm as he directed Dean to face the wall beside him. Castiel stood up and arranged Dean how he wanted him. “Bend at the waist and lay your palms flat against the wall.”

Dean did as he was told. The thought passed through his mind that he could prolong Castiel's touch if he positioned his body the wrong way. He knew Castiel would need to touch him again to correct his stance. But beyond the desire to feel Castiel's hands on him, Dean wanted to be good for his Dom. 

Bending over in nothing but thin cotton pants and a threadbare tee shirt, Dean felt exposed but unafriad. He was surprised to find that he did not feel fear and wondered if maybe he should. 

Clearer than anything that had been spoken between them came a reminder of Castiel's promise that he would not hurt him. Not more than he deserved, and never more than he could bear. Dean trusted that Castiel was inherently good and fair. Dean knew that he could easily avoid further punishment by following the rules laid out for him. He would try harder, be better, next time.

The first smack of Castiel's hand came as a surprise. Dean grunted as his arms gave way, bending at the elbow. “Keep your elbows straighter. Brace yourself. And, whatever you do, do not remove your hands.” Dean pressed back from the wall to protect his face from slamming into it as Castiel smacked him again. “Keep your legs spread, just like that. Perfect.” Castiel critiqued his posture, making sure Dean knew exactly how to stand. Dean took pride in hearing that Castiel thought he looked perfect. His praise took some of the sting out of the punishment. 

Staring at his feet, Dean accepted each blow Castiel served. Castiel's hand collided with his buttocks and thighs methodically. Rarely did his hand come down over the same spot twice in a row. The placement and strength of each slap was unpredictable, but it made sense to Castiel. Dean pushed harder at the wall, as if trying to make it move. _I'm sorry, Cas. I know better,_ he thought. _Cas deserves better. He cares for me and I treated him like a joke._ A flash of doubt crossed his mind. Could someone who truly wants the best for him administer pain as punishment? Dean remembered Castiel's concern at the club and pushed any uncertainty from his mind. Castiel was careful and kind; he knew what he was doing. 

Castiel saw Dean's body tense under his hand and grabbed a fistful of his ass, instead of slapping it. He squeezed the sensitive flesh rhythmically. “Breathe. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Keep breathing. You are doing very well, taking your punishment so good for me.” He held Dean in  
place with a firm grip of his hip. His hand rested on the exposed skin between his waistband and the hem of his shirt. The touch set Dean's skin on fire and his back arched involuntarily. 

Castiel used his other hand to smooth Dean's spine. “You will not roll your eyes again. Tell me.”

Dean's breathing came in gasps. “I won't roll my eyes again.”

“Once more.”

“I will not roll my eyes again.”

Castiel ran his hands over Dean's back, adjusting his shoulders and hips, correcting his posture. “I know. Now, breathe. Relax.” One hand returned to Dean's hip, as the other reared back for the next round of spanking. 

Dean took Castiel's direction and focused on his breath. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. He drew his attention to the feel of air passing through his nostrils and filling his lungs. His chest expanded with the breath, then collapsed with each exhale. Castiel's hand returned to it's purpose, smacking into Dean with varying force. Dean's breath caught in his throat with a rather intense strike, but his concentration remained undisturbed. He continued to breathe himself into a deeper state of relaxation. 

Pulling his consciousness away from the pain, his senses came to life. Dean could zone in on the feel of Castiel's steady fingers on his hip. _Breathe._ He could taste the sugary remnants of coconut on his teeth. _Relax._ He could smell the lemon dish soap on his hands. _Breathe._ He heard the rush of his breath and focused on the words Castiel repeated behind him. _Relax._ Castiel reminded Dean that he asked for this, wanted to serve under his Dom, needed to be trained. Dean had insulted his Dom and Castiel needed to follow-through with the punishment. They had rules that must be obeyed to bring order to their relationship, so they will always know what to expect from each other. Castiel expected Dean to treat him with respect, and Dean expected to be punished when he broke the rules. 

Dean lost himself in Castiel's voice. It carried deep and rough over Dean's shoulder, seeping into his brain and lulling him into security. Castiel spoke truth and reason. Everything he said was a reiteration of the knowledge Dean had gathered himself. _Breathe. Relax._ He trusted Castiel, more than he trusted himself at this point. That realization helped to lift Dean from the present and into a different space. 

His vision blurred until he could not differentiate between his feet and the floor. It was a dizzy, heady feeling, but Dean didn't care; he was floating. He felt and heard everything that was happening to him, behind him, but it was as if he was far away. Outside stimuli was no longer as intense as the thoughts and feelings within. Dean drifted, in awe of the power he had relinquished to his partner. Everything about Castiel conveyed control and order. Even the skin of Dean's backside seemed to sting uniformly. His words were no longer being coherently processed by Dean's brain, but Castiel's voice droned on. 

Its sound was soothing, monotonous, a welcome contradiction to the biting lash of his palm. Castiel's breath warmed Dean's back, his fingertips dug into his hip. Dean basked in the feeling of right. 

His body rocked forward and back as Castiel continued to dole out his punishment. The position and movement evoked a sensual element for Dean. Without the support of boxer briefs, his arousal tented the loose lounge pants and bounced against his thigh. Dean's thoughts drifted to fantasy. In the fog of his imagination, Castiel was stretching him. He could almost feel the burn of his fingers pressing into his hole, readying him to be filled. Preparing to use Dean's body for his own erotic end. Each clap of Castiel's hand was an echo of fantasy-Castiel's hips slamming against Dean's ass. 

Castiel hovered over Dean as he braced himself against the wall. He admired the way Dean handled his spanking and counted down from ten to alert Dean that the punishment was coming to an end. A throaty moan rolled from Dean's lips as Castiel's hand connected with his ass one last time. Castiel felt Dean lurch forward, his legs finally giving out beneath him. With urgency, Castiel scooped his arms around Dean's chest and caught him before he could fall. He walked them the few steps to the couch. 

When Castiel lowered him to lay on his stomach, Dean let out a soft groan in discomfort. Confused, Castiel knelt beside him and noticed the problem. 

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel had speculated that Dean would eventually trust him enough to enjoy a good spanking, but he was surprised to find Dean so aroused by the scene. His hands moved clinically as they adjusted Dean's erection. In a daze as Dean was, Castiel knew that it would be only too easy for him to be taken advantage of. While he did feel sexual attraction to the man before him, Castiel wanted to prove to Dean that he could experience companionship and affection without the trappings of sex. 

Castiel turned to find his overnight bag and within moments, he was back at Dean's side. He stroked Dean's hair and quietly explained what he was doing so not to startle his partner. Even if Dean were to fall asleep, Castiel stated he would continue to narrate his movements. Dean had nothing to fear; Castiel was not going to leave him. “You are so good for me. I am going to strip you of these sweaty clothes and lotion your skin. I will use a homeopathic cream that soothes muscle pain, bruising, and swelling. It may smell funny and tingle a bit. It will help you heal, my beautiful boy.” 

He whispered admiration and praise to Dean, telling him how much his submission was appreciated. Castiel rubbed his hands together for warmth and then ran them up and down Dean's limbs and back. To his backside, Castiel paid special attention. Gingerly, he applied the medicinal cream and inspected Dean's bare bottom. The firm mounds of flesh were angry red and hot to touch. Castiel murmured more comfort and praise as he tended to them. 

Under Castiel's touch, Dean's breathing evened out. Castiel reached for his glass of water and urged Dean to drink at least half before he was allowed to sleep. With Castiel's assistance, Dean finished the water and settled back down to rest. Castiel positioned Dean's head on a pillow and covered his nudity with a blanket. He folded back the blanket carefully, exposing only one limb at a time. On his knees, he took his time to massage Dean's legs, feet, arms, and hands. When his hands came to Dean's neck and shoulders, Castiel noticed that Dean was still awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another big THANK YOU to everyone who keeps coming back for more!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Dean, their relationship was a serious divergence from 'normal' and Castiel admonished himself for slipping into fantasy during downtime. This was Dean's time to vent and explore his limits. It was Castiel's time to discover how Dean really felt about their play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nudity, but not explicit
> 
> A/N: I want to apologize for not keeping up with my plan to update Monday. Only one chapter this week. Going forward I will be updating Fridays.

Trust  
Chapter 6

Dean's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Castiel with a warm smile. “Don't let me fall asleep,” Dean mumbled, sounding like he was already half-way there. Castiel sat at Dean’s waist, perched on the edge of the couch. The air in the apartment was cool, but a warmth seemed to pass between them. Even under only a thin blanket, Dean hardly registered he had been disrobed.

Castiel's passed his hands over Dean's scalp, settling his fingers at the base of his skull. His thumbs pressed circles into Dean's neck. The touch elicited soft groans from the man beneath him. Hearing the sounds of pleasure was almost enough to make Castiel moan himself. He watched Dean's body rock slowly under the kneading of his hands. He could see Dean was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Talk to me, Dean. Keep yourself awake.”

“Like downtime?” Dean was worried the day had passed by too quickly and if he fell asleep before they were able to talk about the weekend, he wasn’t sure if Castiel would reschedule or make him wait until Thursday. 

Castiel considered it; glancing at his watch he noted how late it was getting. “I will take your preference into account. Would you rather I finish this massage, or I can stop and we will have downtime now?” He pulled his hands away to wait for a response. His palms itched in the silence, wanting to return to their ministrations. Dean's body squirmed beside him; it seemed like he wasn't ready for Castiel to stop either. 

Dean had a number of things he'd like to get off his chest, but had been saving them for downtime when he knew he wouldn’t be judged. With Castiel’s hands working him into a state of bliss, Dean thought that he might slip and say something that would get him in trouble. “I'm afraid I'm too relaxed to keep myself from saying anything stupid. We can't have downtime and keep doing this?” Dean felt embarrassed, asking for a massage like he was some bourgeois princess at a spa. But Castiel's hands were like heaven and Dean wanted them back on his body as soon as possible.

Castiel seemed to read his mind and stroked from the top of Dean’s head to the base of his spine in one long movement. “We can do both.” 

Dean’s body rose to meet the path of Castiel’s hand and the sight branded itself into Castiel's brain. To see Dean so desperate for his touch nearly set his blood on fire. He was tempted to do it again, but instead decided to save this for a special treat. If Dean only knew how the smallest displays of his need made Castiel ache for him.

Before Castiel could deny him touch again, Dean patted his own shoulder to signal he was looking for more, “Whenever you're ready, Sir.” Castiel's laughter carried through his fingertips as they went back to work on Dean's neck. 

It was understood that Dean would continue to interact with Castiel as a submissive during downtime. While he would not be punished for anything he said, he should conduct himself with respect to his Dom. “Do you have something specific on your mind?”

“Yeah.” A short but important list of grievances and critiques flashed behind his eyes. “Yes, Sir. Um, can I start?”

“You may.” Castiel caressed the back of Dean’s neck as he made himself comfortable. Dean folded his arms under his head and pressed his body more fully against Castiel’s thigh.

“Well, besides the, uh, pain in my ass...” Dean smiled to let Castiel know he held no resentment. “This weekend's been pretty great. I didn't realize it could be like this.” 

Castiel looked down at him with curiosity and ran his fingers over Dean’s ear as if tucking away a loose piece of hair. “Like what?” Dean was so beautiful laid out on the couch. _Wouldn't he look even better bound and spread?_ Castiel had to close his eyes to clear his sinful thoughts. 

Dean picked at the fringe of the throw pillow beneath his arms. “Obviously, I had crap ideas about Dominant and submissive stuff. But then you told me there was more to this than licking boots and choking on a ball gag.” He huffed out a stiff chuckle and shook his head, pushing away memories of the stage. 

His seemingly off-handed comment brought Castiel crashing back into the present. For Dean, their relationship was a serious divergence from 'normal' and Castiel admonished himself for slipping into fantasy during downtime. This was Dean's time to vent and explore his limits. It was Castiel's time to discover how Dean really felt about their play. He took a deep breath and gave his attention fully to his sub. 

“So I read more about it.” Dean began to pluck at the fringe more nervously and sighed, “But even the blogs and message boards didn't prepare me for us. I mean… tell me you're just easing me into it, that the whips and paddles are coming later.” Dean finished his thought in a rush.

Castiel’s hand came over Dean's to cease his assault on the braids of yarn. “You want whips and paddles?” Castiel's question was searching, not merely hopeful. He lifted Dean’s hand into his own and placed firm pressure into the crease of his palm. Dean’s fingers tensed a moment before going limp and permitting Castiel to continue the massage.

“I don't know.” Dean pressed his face into the crook of his elbow, but he couldn’t hide the indecision of his tone. “Not right now.” Dean couldn't imagine Castiel using anything so violent against him. The Dommes at the club wouldn't think twice about sending him home with welts and broken skin, but they were nothing like Castiel. He wondered if maybe it was Castiel who had this all wrong. His voice rose as his disbelief surfaced. “You are literally giving me a massage right now. How is that Dominant?” As the words shot past his lips, Dean cringed. What was he griping about anyway? He let his ass get spanked red without a word of protest, but he'll complain about being treated too nicely? He looked up at his Dom with trepidation, ready to apologize.

Dean expected Castiel to pull away or slap him again, but his fingers continued to circle rhythmically over his hand and wrist. He didn’t seem at all fazed by Dean’s question, though his calm did little to comfort Dean at the moment.

“Well, let's see.” Castiel gently bent Dean’s arm at the elbow and slowly turned it so that his wrist rested comfortably on the small of Dean’s back. He continued to rub the muscles of Dean’s forearm. “To feed into your assumption that Dominance equals some kind of sadistic control, I have you lying naked on the couch, your ass raw from a recent spanking. I am sitting over you and holding you down while you let me do whatever I please with your body. I could have tied you up and forced you to give over your control to me. But I don't have to, do I? You certainly seem willing to lie here under my instruction alone.”

Dean truly wanted to roll his eyes at that one, but he closed them instead. “Yeah,” he admitted through clenched teeth, “but you're giving me a massage.”

He ghosted his fingertips over Dean’s shoulder and down his arm. “I will do with your body as I please.” When Castiel’s fingers reached Dean’s wrist again, they clamped around the joint and held it down. Their hands pressed into Dean's lower back as Castiel leaned over his body. He held his lips against the shell of Dean’s ear. A shiver coursed through the man beneath him as he whispered, “And right now, it pleases me to give you this massage.”

Dean moaned and ground his hips into the cushion beneath his body. He could feel himself stiffen with arousal as Castiel’s breath continued to warm his cheek. Goosebumps popped up all over his flesh. He cleared his throat in an effort to straighten out his thoughts. “Shouldn't I be the one doing this to you?”

“Mmm. Not tonight.” Castiel’s nose nuzzled into the sensitive skin at the junction of Dean’s neck and shoulder. The heady scent of Dean's sweat and cologne was intoxicating. He thought about sucking a trail of bruises over the area but restrained himself. “You read about aftercare,” he said, as if that was all the explanation needed.

“I did.” Dean breathed heavily. Distracted by lust, Dean answered more honestly than he intended. “I read the titles of a couple articles and skimmed through Reddit.”

“Dean.” Castiel sat up straight, using Dean’s back to support him as he adjusted his weight. He pressed down harder than was necessary in his frustration. They had spent most of the afternoon reading together, Dean on the tablet and Castiel with the newspaper. Castiel had bookmarked several webpages for Dean who had claimed to have read them before dinner.

“You said you wouldn't judge me during downtime.” He sounded dejected which really defeated the atmosphere that downtime was supposed to create.

With a sigh, Castiel dialed back the force of his touch and began to knead the muscles of Dean’s upper arm. “You are right.” He took in another deep breath, “And I told you not to lie to me.”

“I know.” Dean shrugged with his free shoulder. “I just don't get this whole aftercare thing. I mean, tonight, when you hit me... It wasn't that bad. Really, I feel fine. You probably don't need to do this whole massage thing.” Dean could sort of understand that a massage might help if he was in real pain or feeling some kind of way about an intense scene. But that wasn't the case here. Dean found himself enjoying the spanking, though he thought it best not to mention it. 

“Does this make you uncomfortable?”

The question threw Dean off-guard and was answered with a period of silence. Dean didn't know what to say. The massage wasn't bad. It felt good, too good. Each touch left Dean craving more than Castiel’s contract was willing to give. “I don't know. Define uncomfortable.”

“No.” Castiel’s response was firm, serious. “You define uncomfortable.”

Dean wanted to bury his head in his hands, but was unable to do more than turning his face toward the back of the couch. “It's becoming less relaxing and more...” He let out a grunt of frustration as he strained against Castiel’s hold on his arm. “It makes me want... other stuff.”

“Other stuff...” Castiel took Dean’s other arm in his hands, so that both were now laid across his back.

“Do I really have to say it?” His voice was muffed by the back cushion. “Your hands on me like this, you know it's turning me on, right?”

Castiel smirked, dragging his hands over the length of Dean’s arms. “Yes, I know.” Castiel was mapping out Dean's most sensitive areas. Each touch that caused Dean to moan, shiver, and arch his back were ingrained in Castiel's memory for later exploitation.

“Is that part of your control thing? Building up the sexual tension and ignoring it?”

Castiel continued to run his hands over Dean’s shoulders and back. He did enjoy watching Dean rut against the couch like he was discovering his first erection. The sounds he made, the lines of his body, the flush of his skin, all of it was beautiful. All of it was for Castiel. He danced his fingers over the mound of Dean's ass, “I can stop if you like.”

“If I like…” Dean shook his head with a laugh that radiated his frustration. “You're such a tease.”

“I did suggest that we have downtime without the massage,” Castiel reminded him.

“Right. OK.” Dean tried to bring his focus back to downtime, but it was hard to think of anything besides Castiel's fingers on his thigh. “So, we started this D/s thing yesterday night, right?”

“Yes.” Officially they had signed the contract Saturday evening, however Castiel was aware that the undertones of Dominance and submission ran through every interaction that they'd shared.

“I liked that last night, even though you were in charge, I was allowed to choose the movie. I mean, give me the choice of Willow and Dragonheart. Nine times out of ten, I'll choose Willow. But...” He turned to face Castiel and let his thought trail off. In his way, Dean was saying thank you. He was letting him know he appreciated even the little ways Castiel showed the value of Dean's opinion.

“I will always give you a choice.” Castiel caressed Dean's cheek, admiring the way Dean held his pose without needing to be reminded or restrained. With his arms behind his back he was vulnerable. Castiel's heart warmed seeing Dean entrust him with his safety.

Dean smiled. “And how you came right over after work.”

“I will always come when you call.”

“I like the massage and that weird cream,” Dean finally admitted with a blush. Though he didn't think they were particularly necessary, he could acknowledge that it was nice. “I liked when you fed me... You remembered the trench coat. That's huge. You were so good with me even though I didn’t know what I was doing. I liked how you improvised with me. Felt safe. Is it OK that I initiated that scene? I know I should have asked you first. It just sort of happened.”

Castiel's eyes were soft as they met Dean's gaze. “I won't punish you for initiating pet play, but I would appreciate it if you talked to me about it first. We can direct the scene together. That way if there is something specific you would like done or said, we can plan it out. The trench coat seemed important and I'm glad that I remembered it. But with a little planning, we can play through more elaborate scenes with each other.” 

Dean leaned into Castiel's hand and turned so that his lips were against Castiel's palm. He didn't dare purse them into a kiss, not without permission. But he wanted Castiel to know that was his desire. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he said as he pulled back. “Even before we-.” Castiel's fingers carded through Dean's hair and he shivered beneath his hand. “You have such a gentle touch sometimes. If my ass wasn't a burning reminder of before, I’d find it hard to believe you could…” Dean frowned remembering the reason for his punishment. “I’m sorry, by the way.” He clasped his hands together to prevent him from reaching out for Castiel. “Really. You’ve been awesome and I – I promise that won’t happen again.” 

Castiel smoothed the wrinkles from Dean's forehead with his thumb and smiled. He wanted to kiss the apology from his lips. “Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?”

“Not tonight.” Dean wanted to stop talking all together. He wanted to roll over and pull Castiel on top of him. To crush their mouths together and forget to breathe. Instead, he let his limbs go limp and allowed Castiel to assemble them at his will. 

Castiel unfolded Dean's arms and laid them at his sides, under the blanket. “Are you comfortable?”

Dean gave a small nod, but it was far from the position he wanted to be in. “Is downtime over?”

“Yes.” Castiel gathered the bottle of lotion from the floor and stood up from the couch.

Dean thought it was strange to be nude and laid out in front of another person. Even stranger to have that person touch and tease without giving into desire or looking for anything sexual in return. Dean wasn't used to being with someone who wanted to define limits, take things slow, get to know each other. It was creating a different kind of intimacy between them. As they spent time together, Dean picked up on Castiel's quirks and habits. Dean got to know his pet peeves and even some of his turn-ons. 

But there had been something missing this weekend. Dean realized that he hadn't asked Castiel about himself or his family since their first date. They'd been so wrapped up in vanilla vs D/s and schedules and contracts. More than sitting on the furniture or being in control of his body, Dean missed their talks. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dean propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Castiel rummaged through his bag and pulled out his pajamas. They were a matched set. Blue plaid pants and a long-sleeved cotton henley. _What a nerd. A cute nerd. But a nerd none the less._ Dean raised an eyebrow and wondered if Castiel might change clothes in front of him. He himself was already naked, so maybe Castiel did not see nudity as something to be ashamed of. 

Castiel tucked the bundle of clothing under his arm and walked back to Dean. He held the man's jaw gently in his hand and Dean dropped his gaze though he didn't want to. “Can it wait until tomorrow?” The way Castiel asked made it sound like Dean could say 'no' and everything would be OK. And because Dean really felt like he had a choice, he easily deferred to Castiel's obvious preference to wait.

“Sure,” Dean acquiesed. It wasn't urgent and questions about family were probably better asked with clothes on. Castiel nodded and turned away. Dean followed Castiel with his eyes as he slipped down the hall to the bathroom. With Castiel gone, the room seemed to grow colder. Dean wrapped the blanket around his bare shoulders and counted the seconds until he returned.

Leaving Dean in the living room, Castiel recalled their day. Dean, he thought, was doing very well. He seemed to be using his kitten persona to work out some deep-seated neglect, but that was fine. Castiel had confidence that Dean would eventually open up about the roots of those feelings. It was Castiel who felt like his control was slipping. 

He should have insisted that they separate the massage from downtime. Dean was barely focused enough to evaluate their weekend and that wasn't fair to either of them. Castiel had now a vague idea of what Dean liked, but the only critique he received was that a massage was not an example of Dominance. Castiel didn't understand why Dean spoke in a way that insinuated he would prefer to be roughly treated. He was worth so much more than that and it was Castiel's mission to show him. 

Castiel had always enjoyed caring for his subs more than hurting them. He wondered if maybe he wasn't a good fit for Dean after all. The doubt rose in the back of his throat like bile. He wouldn't admit defeat so easily; he had a lot of fight left in him. If Dean wanted a stiff handed Dominant, Castiel would be that for him. He would not, however, compromise his own need for administering his version of aftercare. Dean would still be pampered and coddled as much as the man could stand. Dean deserved to be loved. Castiel was hesitant to admit that this arrangement wasn't just for Dean's comfort. 

He dressed himself in the privacy of the bathroom as his thoughts turned dark. Castiel remembered the moment his older brother announced that his parents had disappeared. He was six months from graduation, an honor student on his way to studying pre-med at the college of his choice. And then Michael had shown up at his high school. There was a plane crash, he said. Many of the victims were missing, but all were believed to be dead. It felt like a thick cloud of fear and uncertainty had settled over Castiel and stripped him of control. His brothers had scrambled to figure out what to do with their youngest brother. Castiel's grades dropped, the university rescinded their acceptance, his anger turned inward, and he rarely spoke. The vulnerability Dean showed in his submission was invaluable to Castiel because he had never felt safe enough to allow himself such a display.

Castiel dragged his hands over his eyes and turned the faucet on cold. Filling the sink, he brought handfuls of water to his face. After a few minutes he was feeling more like himself. He dried his face before finishing up and heading out of the bathroom. 

Dean's smile lit up as Castiel stepped into the room, but faltered when he noticed the redness of his eyes. Dean winced as he sat up to make room on the couch. “You want me to kneel?”

Castiel climbed into the spot next to Dean and shook his head solemnly. “Right now, I'd like to hold you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In truth, it made Cas nervous to give Dean the freedom to take initiative. But if he denied him this, Castiel knew that their relationship would not last. He soon understood that Dean wasn't asking for much. His tanned fingers reached across the table and wiggled in invitation. Warmth spread through Castiel's chest as he watched Dean's shy request for physical contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none

Trust  
Chapter 7

Dean stumbled home from work around nine and fell face-first onto the couch, exhausted. He didn't care about dinner, washing, or bed. It was only by the grace of God that he even managed to drive home from the garage without nodding off behind the wheel. After dragging himself up the stairs, it was all Dean could do to pass out on the couch.

…

On the other side of town, Castiel stepped through the threshold of his home and was immediately hit by a sense of wrong. The unfinished chores he carried out each weekend seemed to mock him as he entered the house. A deep breath of air filled his lungs with the stale smell of old banana peels. It was a quick decision that, before doing anything else, he would take out the garbage. 

He hadn’t been home in days, except for a few hours Saturday. And Saturday was useless. Blinded by the excitement of contracting with Dean, Castiel hadn’t done much more beyond typing and packing. Rushing through his chores on a Monday evening made Castiel uneasy, but he knew that ignoring them would further exacerbate his anxiety. 

He took out the trash, set a load of laundry to wash, wiped down the counters, mopped the floors, dusted the shelves, polished the wooden furniture, vacuumed the rugs, stripped the bed, set the next load of laundry, bleached the bathroom, showered/dressed, folded clothes, ironed clothes, and put fresh sheets on the bed. Castiel worked like a machine and by the end of it his back ached. He entertained the thought of a hot bath, but thought better of it when he saw the time was near midnight. 

_Midnight._ He reached for his phone, confused that he hadn't heard from Dean all day. 

No missed calls. No messages. 

Castiel turned his mind from analyzing the silence and sent himself to bed. He was reminded that things were good, really good, between him and Dean; there was nothing to worry about. 

…

The next day, Castiel’s freshly scrubbed and polished home greeted him kindly. He woke in a pleasant mood, once again checking his phone for any news from Dean. Still nothing. Getting ready for a morning run, Castiel sent him a short text, “Good Morning,” to let Dean know he was on his mind. 

Dean heard the faint beeping of his alarm clock, but it sounded too far away to be real. His phone buzzed in his pocket until it fell with a crash against the hardwood floor. He woke with a start and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the time. Still in yesterday's clothes, Dean found that he had slept on the couch through the night. Thankful that he didn’t have to be at work until the afternoon, Dean relaxed and let his heart rate return to normal. His thumbs typed a quick note of apology to Castiel. Guilt settled heavily in his stomach when he responded immediately.

> Cas: I am glad that you are alright. I hope you have a nice day.

Dean read the text several times, trying to see beyond the words and wondering if Castiel was angry with him. He took a hot shower to clear his head and to think of something special to do for Cas to make it up to him.

…

At the office, Castiel worked meticulously, eying the doctors as they tended to their patients. The nurses seemed to care more for the children than the MDs, but the medical staff was competent in their work. In fact, his sister-in-law was a patient of the new OB on staff. Castiel was altogether proud to be a part of the growing practice, his enjoyment tainted only a little by the regret that he did not pursue his own dream to be a doctor. 

Since receiving Dean’s text that morning Castiel was feeling pretty good. He didn’t think that he was acting in a way that would suggest upset, but around mid-day Meg came over with a different perception. 

“What’s wrong?” Her hand rested on Castiel’s forearm as she stopped him in the chart room. “Friday you were happier than the prized hog at the fair.” She frowned in jest, “Did they grind your poor piggy into sausage?”

Castiel turned out of her reach and filled his arms with charts he didn’t really need. “I have no need for your concern, Nurse Masters.”

“Hey. I’m serious. Something’s different and I don’t like it. Are you sure you’re OK?” She stood in front of the door, blocking his only exit. Folding her arms across her chest, Meg stared Castiel in the eye. “Well?”

Castiel shook his head and tried again to insist that it was none of her business. He wasn't about to gossip about how it had been less than 30 hours since he saw his new boyfriend and all he received was one lousy apology text. Edging toward the door, Castiel sighed, “Excuse me.”

“C’mon you know you can tell me anything.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “I mean, you took me out to eat at a sex club for chrissake. You practically owe me.” 

He took a step back and narrowed his eyes. “You knew?” 

Meg raised her eyebrows in a way that said, _Yeah dick head, I knew._

Castiel dropped his voice as well. “You didn’t say anything.” He thought that if she had known about the sex club she would have mentioned it earlier, or at least cracked a joke at his expense.

Meg shrugged. “When you first invited me there I thought you were trying to scare me off. So I showed up anyway, gave you every opportunity to let your freak flag fly. But then you didn’t make a move or even talk about the back room. I figured you were too embarrassed to share your kink. Was I wrong?”

“Not embarrassed,” Castiel insisted. “Not interested and not available.”

A mischievous little grin stretched Meg’s mouth over her teeth. “My, my, aren't you full of surprises. Who is it?” Her curiosity was not the jealous or vindictive type Castiel was expecting. If he was reading her right, she actually seemed happy for him. That in itself was unsettling. Castiel had been certain that Meg's interest in him was romantic in nature. There should be no reason for her to be happy that he was unavailable, unless she delighted in further challenge. He was about to question her when a voice called from the ceiling.

Castiel felt saved by the intercom. “Mr Novak to the front desk.” Even though he was sure it would be someone complaining about insurance or billing, he was all too happy to escape from Meg. He walked to the front with a satisfied strut, but it didn't last long. Castiel's smug grin disappeared when he saw what was waiting for him in the lobby. The sight of the familiar figure stopped him short in the side hallway.

Dean was standing at the front window making small talk with the secretaries. He was angled away from Castiel and so hadn’t noticed him yet. Castiel took his time to admire his muscular frame. Dean looked great, as usual. He was dressed in a hunter green jacket and fitted jeans. His cologne just barely cut through the smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol, but it was enough to make Cas swoon. More than his good looks, or delicious scent, Castiel was touched that he would think to visit at the office. That is, of course, if he was there to visit Cas in the first place.

Chasing Castiel down the hall, Meg noticed him making dreamy eyes at Dean. “Looks like you did damn well for yourself there, Clarence.” Meg laughed as she nudged Castiel into the lobby. “Go get him, hot stuff.”

Castiel tripped over his own feet, but managed to keep himself upright. He was grateful that Dean didn’t see his awkward entrance. Walking the few last steps to meet Dean, he took deep, steadying breaths. He told himself that Dean showing up was a good thing and he reached up to tap him on the shoulder. 

Dean turned toward the touch and smiled. Seeing Cas with an armful of paperwork, he lifted a bag hopefully. “I thought you might have time for lunch with me.”

Castiel didn't second guess the invitation or even check if it was close to his break. Placing all concerns of his work day on hold, Cas gratefully accepted and suggested they head to the cafeteria. Meg eagerly swooped over and took the charts from him before he made it out the door. He barely registered her interruption as she stated she would leave the papers on his desk. Dean opened the door for them and gave Meg a small wave of thanks. 

The cafeteria was fairly quiet. It seemed that it was either too early or too late for the building's lunch rush. Castiel chose a small table near a window, more out of a desire for privacy than the view. Outside was typical of the small city: asphalt, an under-grown tree, and a small patch of yellowing grass. Neither gave much thought of the view anyway as their attentions were on each other. 

Dean unpacked their lunches, one hot meatball parmesan and an Italian hero. “Age before beauty,” Dean said as he set the choices before Cas. 

“You know, Dean, it is said that flattery will get you everywhere.” Castiel chose the foil wrapped sandwich. “You could try it sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean said unfolding the waxed paper to free his own hero. “But I've done so well so far with just insults and a wink.” He tucked into his lunch with gusto, opening his mouth wide to accommodate the tall stack of meats and cheeses.

“Well isn't that charming,” Castiel remarked, remembering why meals were so much nicer when Dean was fed human-sized bites of food from his hand. 

Dean sucked a slice of tomato off his lip. “I am charming and you love it. Besides, I wasn't saying that you aren't handsome in your own right, angel face. So, speaking of, you've got a birthday coming up, right?”

“I do.” Castiel paused to eat and waited to see if Dean had some snide comment to add about getting older. When none came, Cas realized Dean probably had no idea that his birthday was actually just a few weeks away. “Did you interrogate my secretaries for this information already or are you trying to get me to tell you? I am not easily manipulated and more inclined to answer questions when they are asked directly.”

Dean took another big bite of his sandwich and smiled. He wondered if he could trick Cas into thinking he really had asked the women upstairs. He chewed until he could swallow and then smiled some more. In the end, he thought better of it and came clean. “C'mon, man. You know I'm just fishing for information; the least you can do is play along.”

Castiel couldn't argue, he always enjoyed playing with Dean. “My birthday is September 18th.”

Dean guessed at the year, drawing out each syllable in the hopes that Castiel would finish it for him, “Nine-teen eighty...”

“Six. September 18, 1986.” Castiel cleared his throat and frowned at their table wishing he had something to drink. Dean seemed to anticipate his need and reached into the bag again for the water bottles.

“1986,” He reflected, making a face. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” Castiel's hand hovered mid-reach for a water bottle.

“Two things actually.” Dean absently uncapped the bottle and handed it to Cas. “First, you're birthday is in, what, like three weeks? Second, you're younger than me.” 

The way Dean made his second point left Castiel feeling put out, like his age was somehow unacceptable. “What does it matter who is younger or older?”

“Well, for starters,” Dean resumed talking with his mouth full, “I should have gotten dibs on that meatball hero.”

Without a second thought, Castiel switched the remaining halves of their sandwiches. “Next time, just choose first. There is no need to whine.” Castiel held out the other half of his meatball hoagie, “Would you like the rest of this as well?”

Dean was leaning forward and biting off a piece before he realized what he was doing. His eyes dropped to the table out of habit and Dean nearly choked, remembering they were still in the cafeteria. His face flushed with embarrassment as his eyes darted around the room. It didn't seem like anyone had noticed anything strange between them; there were no snickers or smirks coming from the few occupied tables nearby. Feeling little relief, Dean sank back into his chair. He waved his hand to insist that Cas finish his first half of the sandwich.

Sitting across from Castiel suddenly felt foreign. He hadn't realized that he would miss kneeling at his feet and eating from his hand. Not that he was interested in crawling along the cafeteria floor, but sharing a meal had surely lost a great deal of it's intimacy. “Missed this,” Dean admitted a half-truth, “Having regular conversations; sitting on furniture.” Dean could have, should have, told Castiel the truth. _I missed you. Couldn't wait to see you._

Castiel cocked his head. “I have never forced you off of the furniture, Dean.” He spoke casually as if they were having a run-of-the-mill lunch between friends. “Though if your claws ruin the couch, there'll be no catnip for a week.”

Dean cracked a smile, unsure if it was alright to joke with his not-right-now Dom. “Is that OK? Can we talk about, you know, the weekends like this?”

“I don't see why not.” Castiel took one bite of the Italian hero before placing it back down. With a small scowl he took long gulps of water to rinse his mouth of the taste of vinegar and dried oregano. “You were the one who requested our relationships remain separate. You may use this time as you see fit.”

“So, if I wanted to, erm, take initiative on some things...” Dean twisted his napkin in his hands, no longer hungry. “You would be OK with that?” He looked up, eyes full of hope and uncertainty.

“Mm.” In truth, it made Cas nervous to give Dean the freedom to take initiative. But if he denied him this, Castiel knew that their relationship would not last. He soon understood that Dean wasn't asking for much. His tanned fingers reached across the table and wiggled in invitation. Warmth spread through Castiel's chest as he watched Dean's shy request for physical contact. Cas brought his hand to Dean's and threaded their fingers together. 

For the rest of the lunch hour, Dean asked about Castiel's family. He wanted answers for all the questions he was burning to ask over the weekend. Castiel shared that his brothers liked to come together for birthdays and holidays, but with each of them putting down roots in different parts of the world, it had been hard to celebrate much over the past few years. Dean found out that Castiel was closest to his brothers Gabriel and Michael. Michael and Luc were the oldest by several years, then had come Rafael, and later Gabriel and Cas. Castiel explained that Michael took it upon himself to raise Gabe and him after their parents departed. So Dean figured that it made sense for the three of them to be close. Cas didn't talk much about the time immediately after his parents passed and Dean knew better than to pry into such a sensitive subject.

Cas shared about Gabriel's many failed business ventures and joked about his tantric yoga phase while courting his wife. Dean thought Gabriel sounded entertaining but wondered how such a clown could be brother to Castiel. Perhaps after meeting the guy Dean would find that they complimented each other in ways Dean hadn't considered. Cas clearly loved him so Dean kept his criticisms to himself. He knew he'd punch the lights out of whatever knucklehead passed judgment on his own brother.

When Cas went on to talk about his relationship with Michael, Dean's heart almost broke. Cas discussed Michael's job with the CDC, bouncing all over the world to study epidemics in war-torn countries. The way Cas spoke about Michael, with concern and pride, made it sound like he was the older one of the two. Dean could relate to his fears about Michael being so far from home having experienced similar (though not identical) fears having Sam across the country at college. Dean shared how his relationship with Sam had changed since he left and wondered aloud if things would ever go back to the way they were.

Cas opined that he did not think that things ever went back. He shared his understanding of life and time like a moving stream. “You cannot touch the same water twice because the flow that has passed will never pass again. I believe relationships are the same way. For instance, we will share many meals and conversations, but we will never have this moment again. Even if all else is played the same.”

Dean thought he understood and wanted to stay in this moment for at least a little while longer. With Castiel's lunch break drawing to a close, Dean sought to draw out their goodbye, “Walk me out?”

Cas brought Dean to the back of the building and out to their small parking lot. His first sight of the Impala left him speechless. He admired the sleek muscle car, appreciating that this was Dean's pride and joy, but he didn't know what to say. Castiel knew next to nothing about cars. He had always lived in the city and relied on mass transit. His driver's license was just another form of government ID in his wallet; he never needed it beyond that. “It's beautiful. It looks like you take very good care of it.”

Dean didn't bother correcting his use of pronoun and came up beside him. Leaning into Cas's space, Dean promised, “After work, Baby and I are going to take you out.” His hand slipped up Castiel's back before settling one arm around his shoulders. Dean ran his free hand over the Impala's roof. “What time should we pick you up?” Dean stood at the driver's side door, head tipped toward Castiel. 

Cas watched him up close. With his jaw shadowed in stubble and his green eyes bright with expectation, Dean was the perfect specimen of rugged innocence. His long lashes blinked as he waited for Castiel's response. “I close the office at 8.”

Dean pulled his arm off of Castiel and pressed his back against the door. He jerked his chin, beckoning Castiel closer. As Cas took another step toward him, Dean reached out, grabbed onto his sweater vest, and pulled. Scuffing his shoes along the pavement, Castiel moved in until there was just a slip of air between them. Dean's hands smoothed over Castiel's chest. The lunch date had gone better than he had hoped and Dean thought it could only be improved by one thing. He wanted to eliminate the space between them, to finally feel the warmth of Cas's lips on his own. His tongue flicked over his lips in anticipation as he watched Castiel's mouth. Castiel's full, plump lips were slightly parted and Dean thought that would be invitation enough. But when he looked up and saw Castiel staring back at him, he couldn't do it. It didn't feel right. Not like this. He wouldn't take this from Castiel. Although his heart leaped at the thought of their first kiss, Dean held back. 

Castiel froze when he saw what Dean was getting ready to do. Maybe to someone else, to Dean, this seemed like a perfectly acceptable moment to have their first kiss. Cas, on the other hand, couldn't shake the feeling of wrong. He wasn't ready for this next step. He wasn't ready to have Dean make this move for both of them. 

Grateful for Dean's hesitation, Castiel gathered him in his arms. With a sigh of relief, Cas tucked his face to Dean's neck and breathed him in. “Thank you.” Castiel caressed the back of Dean's neck and held them together another moment. “Lunch with you was... a welcome surprise.”

“I'll be here at eight.” Slipping out of Castiel's embrace, Dean opened the door and dropped into the Impala. He tried to hide his disappointment by rushing off. He claimed that he had to get going in order to get to the garage and change before his shift started.

Twice during his shift Dean sneaked over to the lockers and checked his phone. Sam had called again so Dean sent him a quick text letting him know things were good and that he was busy with work. He begged Sam to relax and focus on his studies, insisted that he was back to his old self and doing well. Sam actually apologized and promised to lay off. Each time his phone binged, Dean hoped for something from Cas. He couldn't get a kiss after lunch, but Dean felt like he would settle for a kiss-face emoji at this point and was bummed that Cas wouldn't even give him that. 

Mostly, the short breaks served another purpose. Dean found what he was looking for a few towns out. A drive-in theater advertised a showing of Back to School at 9:30PM, leaving more than enough time for travel and dinner if Dean grabbed take out on the way to get Cas. He wondered if Cas liked Rodney Dangerfield and then if they would be watching much of the movie at all. There was no way Castiel didn't know that Dean was ready to kiss him and making out in the Impala had been Dean's favorite past-time since puberty.

Before leaving the garage, Dean griped at Bobby for the short hours this week. He tried to explain his financial situation wasn't the best without raising any alarms that might trickle back to Sam. Bobby being a family friend and Sam being a big girl about everything, Dean worried that one of these days they'd start comparing notes and catch Dean in a lie about where he had really made his money this past year. With sincere apologies, Bobby admitted to Dean that the garage was struggling as well. He would see what he could do about giving Dean more hours, but his part-time arrangement had always worked out well. Bobby wasn't sure how he could accommodate Dean's new need without screwing one of his other employees in the process. Dean said he understood and hoped that their friendship would count for something as Bobby tried to rework the schedule for the upcoming weeks. In the meantime, Dean fell back on what he knew.

Off work at 7PM, Dean headed to his old stomping groups to ask for a favor. He knew Ellen and Benny would probably just be getting in to start their night at the bar and he wanted to catch them before they were neck-deep in customers. Tuesdays were usually pretty slow, so Dean didn't think they'd be in too much of an imposition to entertain a friend. 

Dean found street parking a few blocks from Bar A by an old fashioned candy store. The bright colored sign caught his eye and as he peeked in, his mouth began to water. One half of the store was wall to wall with glass cases full of homemade candies, chocolate, cookies, and fudge. On the other side was a small sandwich counter lined with paisley upholstered stools. Along the wall hung black and white photos and a chalkboard sign that boasted a “new cookie-chunk ice cream” and a “better than yo' mama's chicken salad”. It looked cozy and welcoming; Dean couldn't resist going in to pick up a bag of goodies for later. 

Dean approached the glass case and was greeted by a dark woman. He pointed at a number of items and ordered a one pound assortment. The woman behind the counter moved like a whirlwind weighing out various chocolate-dipped fruits, truffles, and bonbons. Dean was delightfully surprised that so many pieces came with only a pound of candy. The woman sealed the small box with a sticker. Reading the round label, Dean learned that Ambrosia had opened nearly 90 years ago and still used many of the same recipes created in the early 1900s. 

The woman passed him the box with a rushed farewell even though he was the only other person in the store. He traded her payment before heading out. Unsure how late little shops like this one usually stay open, Dean thought perhaps she was trying to close up for the night and didn't want to keep her. He glanced behind him as the door closed, wanting to read the shop's schedule. It wasn't too far from Castiel's office and he considered bringing him there for a neat little lunch date. As he turned, Dean saw what he guessed was the real reason she had rushed him out. 

Springing up from behind the sandwich counter was a sandy-haired man with a wide grin. He was clearly a goof-ball, launching himself over the bar top with a twizzler hanging from his teeth. Within seconds, the woman was out from behind the candy cases and crashing into his chest. The mans hands found her waist and smoothed over her rounded belly with obvious care and affection. Behind the glass case, Dean hadn't noticed she was pregnant. But out in the open, it was quite obvious she was pretty far along. With laughter on their lips, the couples' mouths met ravenously and Dean took that as his cue to look away. He shook his head at their public display, but felt more jealousy than disgust. One day, he hoped to have something as free and spontaneous as that with Cas. 

Walking down the street toward the bar, Dean paused at a small sign announcing an apartment for rent. The building looked nice - a three family home with white siding, red shutters, and flower boxes along the windowsills. Remembering the couple at the candy store, Dean imagined what it would be like to have a family of his own: kids running through the rooms and drawings taped to the fridge. It was a beautiful house, in a pretty good area of town. Dean wouldn't typically consider raising children in the city, but all of the sudden it didn't seem like such a big deal. There was something warm and inviting about the house that appealed to him. 

Dean's fantasy continued as he pictured himself climbing the brick steps, coming home from work with a box of candies just because. In his mind, he saw the front door open. He was greeted by Cas's kind eyes, a baby on his hip and a toddler at his feet. Of course, Dean wasn't really considering marriage or babies just yet. And even if his mind had involuntarily supplied the thought of Castiel as the father of his kids, that didn't mean Dean was ready for that kind of commitment. Shaking his head of the daydream, Dean surveyed the house again. Dean was certain that it was far out of his price range. And besides, he didn't need a new apartment; he needed another job.


	8. Chapter 8

Trust  
Chapter 8

Dean made it to the bar without any other side-tracks and ordered dinner for two to go. He sat with Ellen for a moment and talked about Cas and Sam, about looking for work. Ellen was happy to hear that things were going well on the relationship front but she apologized; she couldn't offer him a job without Dean agreeing to interview and audition with Alistair. Even Ellen knew that the “auditions” were not something anyone ever wished to repeat and Dean had no interest in climbing back on the stage. Dean thanked her for the help and promised to stop by again sometime soon.

While he waited for the food, Dean figured he could run an alternative idea by Benny. If he couldn't come back as a bartender, then Dean didn't want to work for Alistair at all. But maybe there was another talent he could put to use.

Benny looked excited to see Dean and wrapped him up in a strong embrace. Dean started with small-talk and transitioned to ask how work was going. Benny let him know that things were mostly the same. Alistair was still on the look out for more male submissives, but business on the whole was good. Dean tried to be casual as he asked about his regulars, the men and women who paid extra for private sessions. Had anyone been interested in him? Was he missed? Benny knew he wasn't asking out of concern for their patrons and admitted that there were a few that requested to schedule a private session with Dean. He described the people he remembered; Dean didn't know their names and Benny wasn't supposed to supply them. 

Dean considered the customers Benny mentioned and kept in mind the few that didn't leave marks. When Dean asked for their contact information, Benny pulled back. He had every right to refuse Dean without explanation, but as a friend, Benny asked what he was planning. Dean talked about his idea, how he thought he could make enough money to cover his bills just doing private exhibitions once or twice a week. Thinking Dean wanted to meet these clients in the club's rooms, Benny told Dean no. Benny had also heard that Alistair wouldn't let Dean back without going through the audition again and reminded him that he couldn't schedule Dean at the club without Alistair's approval.

Dean remembered the first time auditioning for Alistair and what a bizarre nightmare it was. And that was back when Al had liked him. Dean couldn't bear to imagine what Alistair would ask for during an audition from a former employee who had quit, one he knew was only coming back because he was desperate. Dean informed Benny that he wished to contact his clients on his own, leaving the club out of his affairs.

Benny had sympathy for him and gave the name of one guy who had altogether stopped coming around when Dean had quit. He justified passing Dean a copy of the man's phone number saying that it wasn't really taking business away from the club anyway. Dean smiled and almost turned down the number, at first assuming that the name would be Cas. He knew that Castiel had not set foot in the bar or club since they started dating, but when he looked down it wasn't Castiel Novak written on the paper. Dean shouldn't have been too surprised; Castiel had never asked for a private session, as far as Dean was aware. No, the contact information he received was for someone else entirely. Benny gave a physical description to go along with the name until Dean could picture Zachariah. Dean hadn't realized he had made such an impression on this one that he would stop attending the club altogether. Zachariah was a quiet client, pleased to watch whatever Dean wanted to do during their private meetings. Mostly, Dean would dance for him or pose while the man watched. It seemed like a good lead on some fast cash.

Benny advised Dean to call Zachariah with a proposal – schedule, price, and limits. Being a bit more contract savvy at this point, Dean felt fairly confident he could make something work in his favor. He started negotiation with a rate of one-thousand dollars per two-hour session, guaranteed one session per week for a month. He knew it was a reach, but if he started high it would seem like a compromise when he agreed to anything less. At the end of negotiations Dean had secured three-hundred dollars per hour session, guaranteed four-hours for the first week as a houseboy. Zachariah chose to make the arrangement on a week by week basis, instead of agreeing to the month. Uniform and supplies would be provided by Zachariah. And their schedule would vary based on Dean's hours at the garage; though Dean insisted there would not be any weekend sessions. Zachariah informed Dean that he worked mostly from home and would enjoy his company during the daytime if his schedule allowed. Dean considered the money he would make, over one-thousand dollars per week just for some light cleaning. He doubted the man truly cared about his proficiency for housework and probably just wanted something attractive to look at while cooped up in the house all day. 

Dean ended his conversation with Zachariah and agreed to meet on Thursday for their first session. Dean recorded the address in his phone and stopped by Ellen's counter to pick up the burgers on his way out. Baby was loaded with dinner, dessert, and a wool blanket – all that was missing was Castiel. Within minutes, Cas was in place as well, sitting in the passenger seat looking fondly at Dean.  


...

  


The ride to the drive-in was pleasant. Castiel seemed to like Dean's taste in music, and Dean enjoyed singing to Queen in the company of someone who wasn't always whining about his pitch or volume. During the chorus Dean thought he heard Castiel humming along and he turned to smile through the song. Still smiling, Dean felt Castiel's hand rest casually on his thigh. Things were certainly looking up for Dean. His money situation seemed to be under control, Castiel was happy, Sam had promised to cut the mother-hen routine, and he planned and executed two dates in one day. Dropping his hand to meet Castiel's on his lap, Dean thought his day couldn't have gone better.

Parked in the large field, windows rolled down, and radio tuned to the movie's audio, Baby provided Dean and Cas with comfort and privacy. The night offered a cool breeze, giving Dean an excuse to huddle close to Cas even as they ate. Practically in Cas's lap, Dean didn't suffer any of the awkward formality that having a table between at lunch had stirred up. As they devoured their burgers the two discussed their shared love of beef. Dean boasted that he could grill a better burger than the restaurant and promised to make them for Cas's birthday. Castiel joked about owning a cattle ranch one day, solely for the purpose of creating the perfect burger. At that, Dean offered to raise pigs for bacon. Of course, according to him, no burger was complete without at least four slices under the bun. Their modest ranch soon grew into a full farm with fields of potatoes, orchards of apple trees, and more land than the two of them could handle. 

“Child labor,” Dean suggested as Cas worried they'd have to hire less-than-qualified ranch hands to help tend the crops and livestock. “We can put the kids to work. They're cheap and, if they wanna eat, they'll do as their told.”

Castiel's mood shifted, but Dean couldn't quite put his finger on what the change signified. “You would like to raise children of your own someday?” 

Dean was tempted to lie, say that he hadn't thought about it. And, up until recently, he really hadn't. But it seemed like the day was determined to get him thinking about what he wanted for his future. Although he was certain that he didn't want to spend his life alone, and his sub-conscious seemed pretty gung-ho for a house and 2.5 kids, Dean wasn't sure if he was ready to settle down just yet. He gave a half-shrug half-nod and cracked open a can of soda. It was a fairly non-committal answer to Castiel's question, but Dean thought he could get away with it for now. “You ever think about that stuff? Marriage, family, kids?” 

“Yes.” Castiel's answer was so honest and straight-forward, Dean felt guilty for shielding his own. Cas's voice dropped as if to admit this desire out loud would somehow make it less likely to manifest. “I think it would be nice to have all of that.”

Dean reached between them and brought Cas's hand to his lips for a soft kiss. Meeting Castiel's eyes, Dean spoke sincerely, “You are going to be a great dad.” With a small smile, Dean described the image from his daydream. “I can see it already. You, bouncing a baby on your hip with a toddler wrapped around your shin. Mashing up bananas cause you wouldn't dream of giving our kids processed crap from the grocery.” Dean didn't even realize that he had included himself in the fantasy, but he saw Castiel's face light up and kept going. “You grew up with a team of brothers, so you probably want a big family of your own. But you'd be satisfied with three kids, I think. Oh, but here comes the kicker, they're all gonna be girls.” Dean shook his head as if apologizing for his own prediction. “That's a lot of pink.”

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand, “Thank you, Dean. I think you'll be a wonderful father as well, even if you're raising girls.”

Dean laughed with a prayer that he not land his ass in jail one day for beating up his pretend-daughter's pretend-jackass-boyfriend. With a shake of his head, Dean cleared his thoughts and moved to pack up their takeout containers. Satisfied that Baby's seats and floor were free of stray fries, he reached into the back seat for the box of candies. 

“Is that from Ambrosia?” Castiel recognized the box's label.

Dean broke the seal and placed the box open on the dash. “Yeah, I stopped there on the way to grab dinner. You've been there before?”

Castiel said he knew the store quite well as his brother purchased it a few years ago. 

“Shorter blonde guy? Goofy smile?” Dean tried to find a family resemblance between them. Dean thought they didn't look much like brothers, but he and Sam were pretty different themselves.

Cas nodded, “That would be Gabriel. Have you met?”

“No, he was hiding behind the counter when I came in. Didn't see him until he started necking with the cashier.”

“His wife, Kali. How did she look?” She was due for her 36-week check up next Friday and Castiel worried she'd pop before making it full term. 

“She's good, I guess. A little wobbly.” Dean grabbed a strip of candied orange peel and popped it into his mouth. “I didn't realize you had family in town.”

Castiel reached for a truffle and used his fingernail to break it in half. “Gabriel doesn't really like to settle anywhere too long, but he made a home with Kali in the suburbs. I thought I had mentioned it.” The inside was a thick caramel-colored cream that smelled like brandy. He placed it back inside the box and grabbed another.

Dean watched as Castiel broke another candy in half, smelled it, and returned it. “What are you doing?” He hoped the question didn't sound too accusatory.

“I don't like alcohol.” Castiel made a face like a child refusing broccoli.

“Really? Like, only the hard stuff, or even beer and wine?” This was news to Dean. He knew Castiel had never refused a beer at his apartment, but he did always request water when making a decision for himself. 

“I'll have beer or champagne on occasion, but I never enjoyed the taste of them.”

“Oh. Well, that's alright. There's plenty of other things in here. You like coconut?” Dean handed him a pair of coconut macaroons. It amused him to watch as Cas sniffed at the sweets before deciding they were acceptable. Castiel ate them one at a time in quick succession. 

 

They didn't end up watching any of the film, but when the credits rolled, Dean took it as a signal to bring their date to a close. “You live near the bar, right?” He asked as they cruised through the center of town.

“It's the three-story, multifamily home.”

Dean slowed as they approached the block. “Say when.” But as Castiel lifted his hand to point out the white building with red accents, Dean realized he should have known. He pulled up to the curb and set the car in park. “This is where you live?” Dean couldn't stop staring at the front door, recalling the image of Castiel and their children.

Cas looked at the house trying to see what Dean was fixated on. “Michael keeps the top floor for himself, but he hasn't actually lived here in years. First floor is my apartment.”

Dean seriously should not be considering moving in with Castiel, not even if it meant he would have his own apartment in the same building. They'd dated less than a week. But he couldn't shake the thought that they practically live together on the weekends anyway. Wouldn't it be easier for the both of them if all of their stuff was in the same place? Dean thinks he read about some kinds of D/s relationships where the submissive moved in with their Dom to surrender even more control to them. He wondered if Castiel would want something like that eventually. “There's a For Rent sign.” 

Cas nodded, “That sign's been there since Michael went to Israel three years ago. He is always trying to get me to rent out the second floor. He doesn't like the thought of me being alone all the time.” Shrugging he added, “I would rather take my chances without having a stranger share my home. Michael encouraged me to buy the house as an investment and though extra income would be nice, I don't find it to be necessary.”

Dean recognized immediately that moving in with Castiel would solve his financial problems, at least temporarily, as he looked for another mechanic job or worked with Bobby to increase his hours. But as Castiel had mentioned distaste at the thought of sharing his home, Dean saw that Castiel placed great value on his independence. For now, Dean resigned to building up his bank account with a few weeks of work at Zachariah's. Hopefully Bobby would find a way to make him a full-time employee before Zachariah got bored of housework and started asking for additional services.

Castiel started hinting at how late it was and Dean heard his cue to turn up the charm. He hopped out of his seat and jogged around the Impala to open the car door for Castiel. Butterflies swarmed in his stomach as they walked up the brick steps together. Dean looked over to see that Castiel was smiling just as he had in his daydream and the temptation to kiss it from his lips grew with each passing second. 

Cas touched Dean's arm, taking note of the raised bumps along his skin. “Are you cold?” Castiel asked, already suspecting the goosebumps were caused less by the weather and more by their proximity. He delighted in the ways Dean's body called out to him, begged for more, while Dean stood in silent submission, waiting for Castiel to make his move. 

Dean shook his head and swayed only slightly forward.

In a movement, Castiel stepped into Dean's arms and reached up to hold his head in his hands. Their foreheads came together first and Dean didn't drop his gaze, he didn't want to miss one second of hunger in Cas's eyes. They remained together for the space of a breath before Dean nudged Castiel's nose with his own. 

“Tell me, Cas. Tell me that you want this.”

Castiel's eyes burned into his and their pupils dilated further than Dean thought was possible. “Kiss me, Dean.”

Castiel leaned in close. He paused only for a moment as he considered the implications of a goodnight kiss. He wanted it. He wanted to give in, to trust Dean with this loaded gun. With eyes still focused on Dean's, he surged forward. His lips met Dean's mouth and all reservation faded into the background. Castiel's tongue probed, searching for a taste which Dean eagerly granted. His lips parted and released a guttural moan. Castiel breathed into him, pressing closer still so that their bodies were flush. 

Dean made a sound like a whimper and rocked his hips forward, barely a movement at all but Castiel noticed. He took Dean's hips in his hands and held them in place. Feeling Dean twitch against his thigh, Castiel's fingers pulled him closer. 

Dean's hands bunched Castiel's sleeves as he forced their mouths together in urgency. He felt incredible, every atom of his being vibrating with desire and satiation. How long had he hoped for this moment? 

Castiel's hand came up to grab his head. Dean allowed him to maneuver and guide their kiss as they turned, tasting each other from another angle. He nosed into Castiel's cheek and deepened the kiss. 

Castiel let free a feral sound – hungry and wild – before pushing Dean up against the door. He placed his hands against the wood on either side of Dean, boxing him in. 

Dean was gasping, shaking, his eyes wide with want. 

Their mouths met again in a sigh and they rolled against each other nipping and licking, hot and wet.

Castiel trailed tiny kisses along Dean's jaw before sucking his earlobe into his mouth. His teeth grazed the soft flesh and Dean's head fell back against the door. Dean turned away, exposing the sensitive skin of his neck. Nuzzling into him, Castiel exhaled hot and heavy. It took more than a few minutes to regain his composure, but neither was in a rush to move. 

…

Dean sat in the Impala, drumming gently against the steering wheel while he waited for Zachariah to call him back. The guy had said he would be working from home all morning, but when Dean showed up at 7AM, right on time, the man was impossible to reach. After ringing the doorbell and knocking multiple times, Dean left a voice-mail on the only phone number he was given. He was scheduled for a three hour session and felt guilty informing the man that the clock was running even as he failed to make use of it. When his waiting started to cut into the second hour, Dean decided to give Sam a call and put his time to better use.

“Dean?” Sam sounded surprised to receive an actual telephone call from his older brother. 

Dean turned down the radio to hear him better. “Found a moment to get back to you,” Dean implied that he would have called sooner if he had the chance. They both knew it was bull, but there was no sense in arguing about it now that Sam finally got him on the phone. 

“How are you?” Sam tried not to sound like he'd been losing sleep over his brother's vague responses and long silences.

“Good. Just waiting for my next job to start.” Dean craned his neck to see if any cars were coming down the street. “Guy's late.”

“What kind of job is it?”

Dean lied. “House call. Need to help him get started on a restoration. Waiting in his driveway now. Went out to get some parts.”

“Oh, that's cool. I didn't know Bobby had you guys doing stuff like that outside the shop.”

“Yeah, it's a thing I put together on the side since Bobby couldn't get me enough hours this week. But not to worry, this job is going to make me more than enough to wait for work to pick back up at the garage. This guy doesn't seem to know his ass from his elbow, so I'm sure I'll be set for a month or two, at least.” Dean wondered if there was much demand for the kind of work he described. It certainly wouldn't pay as well as Zachariah or the club, but it could be an option.

“OK.” 

“How's California?” Dean spoke quickly, not wanting to get caught up in a web of lies.

“Good. I'm, uh, thinking of asking a girl out.”

Dean sighed remembering his last date with Castiel, “Find out what she likes. You wouldn't want to spend twenty bucks on a box of chocolate just to find out she hates the fillings you chose.” He hoped his brother wouldn't have to repeat his own mistake.

“Duh. She's into this raw vegan diet so I signed us up for a class on preparing raw meals at the farmer's market. After that, I was thinking we'd go to a local park for a hike and picnic.”

“How very granola of you.” Of course Sam would have done a thorough investigation into the girl's likes and dislikes to set up the perfect first date. Dean felt like a chump when he compared his dates to that. “Good for you, Sam. She's a lucky gal.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Don't put out on the first date,” he teased.

“We are not having that conversation.”

Dean couldn't resist. “Wrap it before you tap it.”

“Gross.”

“Click it or ticket.”

“Stop. What does that even... No, I don't wanna know.”

There was a long pause and Sam thought that the call had dropped. But then, Dean's voice came over the line. “Ask her before going for your first kiss.”

“What's that?” Sam laughed over the line. “Did actual advice just come from my brother's mouth?”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Enjoy your date, Sammy. Call me up and tell me all about it, OK?”

“Yeah, that'd be cool. K, later then.”

Dean hung up the phone and got out of the car to stretch. It was almost nine and still no sign of this bozo. He was just about to call again when he received a text from Zachariah.

> Z: Something came up. I'll pay double if you wait for me.
> 
> You scheduled 7-10. I'm leaving at 10, no exceptions.
> 
> Z: I should be there before 10 and I don't expect you to stay later than that. I only meant that I will pay you double for wasting your time like this today.
> 
> K.

Dean felt more than a little uneasy about taking the guy's money, $2400, for sitting in the driveway. He quickly deleted the texts and changed the background on his phone while he continued to wait. Five minutes to ten, Dean no longer felt bad for taking the guy's money. Zachariah emerged from the front door of the house and walked across the lawn to the driveway. Extending a Bible to him, Zachariah simply thanked Dean for his time. Without further explanation, Zachariah sniffed and walked up the driveway and into to the house.

Dean was about to call after him but chose to first open the book in his hands. It was hollowed out, a thick stack of bills held in the center. Though tempted to count out the money immediately, Dean returned to his car and drove home. The entire ride home he felt like a criminal. 'Renegade' poured from Baby's speakers as if she were making fun of his plight. He didn't know what to do with that much cash. If it really was 2400, that would be enough to pay for his next two month's rent, or maybe enough to put a deposit on a different apartment altogether. 

Dean parked in the small lot between the dumpsters and held the bible in his hands. He knew it was much safer to take the book inside and count the money in the privacy of his apartment, but he couldn't stop himself. Dean felt the thick wad of twenties heavy in his hand. Sure enough, he counted out one-hundred twenty bills.

Dean reminded himself that all of his sessions would not be this easy. Zachariah was a whack job, but he'd still get his money's worth somehow. Now with the knowledge that Zachariah had probably been home the entire time, Dean figured he had been watching to see what Dean would do when made to wait. Dean wondered if Zachariah had watched him through a window, or if there was a security camera set up outside the house. _Creeper._

The bible tight in his hands, Dean rushed upstairs to deposit the money. He figured it'd do well to sit on the shelf above his bed and tucked it in between The Lord of the Rings and Dune. His phone alerted him to another text as Dean stepped back to see if the book looked out of place. He smirked at the thought of adding a holy text to his collection of science fiction, but actually laughed out loud when he saw that on the shelf directly below the hollow bible was L. Ron Hubbard's Dianetics. Still a laugh on his lips, Dean saw a text from Zachariah. He wished to schedule another session next Thursday, same time same place. Dean agreed to it and got himself ready for his shift at the garage. He took a moment to straighten up the living room quickly in preparation for Castiel's visit and then headed to work. 

…

“Hey, Babe.” Dean had his hands above his head, toweling off his hair as he answered the door. 

Castiel frowned at the nickname as he walked in and hung up his coat. 

With a smirk, Dean winked. “I'm gonna find one you like, and it's gonna stick.” Dean made coming up with a term of endearment sound like a threat. 

Cas had brought over some menus so that they could order-in, but the smell of garlic and oil told him that Dean had already covered dinner. “What's all this?” Castiel was tempted to open the oven to see, but Dean pulled him away playfully. 

“I made garlic bread and eggplant parmesan,” he said self-satisfied.

“You got off of work at seven and _made_ garlic bread and eggplant parmesan.” Castiel didn't believe him for one minute.

“Well, no. OK. I got off work at quarter-after seven, because Garth is a butterfingers and I had to fix his mess. And then I called my good friends at Pizza Rustica and asked them what you liked to order. Then I bought it and asked them the best way to keep it warm. So now it's in the oven, waiting to be devoured by my wonderful, gorgeous, you.” 

Castiel wrinkled his nose at Dean's over-the-top affections. “What happened today? You seem... out of sorts.”

Dean pushed himself up to sit on the counter. “I spoke to Sam,” he said seriously, “and he made me see what a jackass I was for doing what I thought you would like for our date instead of using the information I actually know about you to create a night that you would enjoy.”

Castiel stepped between Dean's knees and watched him suspiciously. Being so close to Castiel clouded Dean's thoughts and he fought with the urge to wrap his legs around him and postpone dinner to satisfy other appetites. 

Dean cleared his throat and mind, “So... I thought, tonight, no alcohol. I got one of your favorite dinners from a restaurant I know you like. Dinner music is your choice. And we can do an activity of your choice.” He placed his hands on Castiel's shoulders to help satisfy the urge to pull him in closer. “I was going to say movie, but I'm getting the idea that you don't really watch much television. So, if you want to read, talk, play charades... just name it. This night is completely yours. I am happy to accommodate you however I can.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean saw that Castiel was confused and worried that he might have been hurt when he cut the scene short. The thought immediately brought Dean's frustration to a head. He had every right to stop Cas from chastising him and treating him like a kid. Dean's jaw tensed as he ground his teeth together.
> 
> “It's OK, Dean. Talk to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: very light humiliation (mostly due to Dean's perception), downtime, kissing

Trust  
Chapter 9

Castiel pulled Dean to the edge of the counter, slotting himself between his thighs. His hands lingered on Dean's ass before drawing slowly up to his hips. They slid under Dean's tee shirt onto the small of his back. Castiel's fingertips dug in, the skin still hot from the shower. “I don't think I will be ordering from Pizza Rustica anymore,” he said with mock suspicion. “They seem to give out personal information to some unsavory characters.”

“Don't kid yourself, I am as savory as they come.” Dean leaned within an inch of Castiel's mouth, pausing for permission to give him a kiss. 

Denied. Castiel arched an eyebrow and shook his head slowly. “You sure you want to do whatever I want.”

“Yeah,” Dean tried not to entertain his disappointment too long as there was still a whole night ahead of them. He reached for the pair of oven mitts hanging from the cabinets above the sink and shooed Castiel over to the eating area. 

The smell of sauce, cheese, and garlic warmed the air as Dean opened the oven. It made Cas's stomach grumble in anticipation as he made his way over to the breakfast counter.

He saw only one set of plates and silverware as he walked around the peninsula to his chair. “Will you be joining me?” Castiel nodded toward the cushion that had been propped against the stool.

“I thought you might like that. But, as I said, I am happy to accommodate you however I can. If you want, I can set another place real quick.” Dean pulled the split loaf of garlic bread from the oven and set down the cutting board.

Castiel sat at the counter and watched. “But you would prefer to kneel.”

“Yes.” Dean didn't look up from his knife as he sliced the bread into more manageable pieces.

“Would you tell me why?”

Scooping up the bread with his hands, Dean placed them in a cloth-lined basket. “It's fun.” He peered over his shoulder at Castiel, “And when I'm kneeling, I can't see you make the faces.”

“What faces?”

“You make faces when you watch me eat.” With one hand carrying the bread basket and the other supplying the dish of eggplant, Dean made his way across the kitchen. 

“Ah. That's because, strangely enough, when I'm not feeding you like a pet you eat like an animal.”

Dean's scowl formed deep lines in his forehead as he placed their dinner in front of Castiel. He knew that Cas had something against his table manners, but Dean had never had to worry about impressing anyone. Now he yearned for Castiel's approval but got ridiculed instead. 

Castiel noticed that he had made Dean upset and called him over. “Here, Dean.” Castiel pointed to the cushion at his feet. 

Dean was still frowning as he lowered himself to his knees before Cas. His hazel eyes looked up at Castiel for one brief moment of defiance before finding the floor. 

Castiel's hand rested on Dean's neck, his thumb passing over the shell of his ear as he spoke. “When you are able to feed yourself like a human, you can eat at the table. But until then, you will eat at my side. In public, you will be given the chance to show me what manners you have learned.” Castiel tipped Dean's head up so that their eyes met. His deep, blue eyes focused intently on Dean who swallowed hard under their gaze. A flash of hunger passed over Castiel's face before he dropped his voice, “At home, you kneel.”

The last command sent a chill down Dean's spine. He was sure Castiel could feel the hairs sticking up on the back of his neck. “Yes, Sir.” Even hearing himself say those words stirred up feelings of desire. Cas had never kissed him or touched him sexually during their D/s time and Dean's excitement began to grow at the thought that tonight could be the night Cas would finally decide they were ready for more. The kiss on Tuesday was wonderful, but not nearly enough by Dean's standards. Dean thrilled at the idea of being grabbed by the hair, bite marks bruising on his skin, Cas's mouth forging an assault on his. He wanted to know what it would be like to watch Castiel finally lose control, to see his lips swollen from kissing him fast and hard. His eyes glazed over as he sank deeper into the fantasy.

Dean felt knuckles drag along his cheek and leaned into the touch with a moan. 

*click * The sound of Castiel's snap at his ear woke Dean from his daze. 

Dean saw that Castiel was holding out a forkful of eggplant just a few inches from his lips. He bowed his head bashfully and opened his mouth to accommodate the bite. Castiel placed two fingers under Dean's chin as he chewed, a firm reminder to keep his mouth closed until he had swallowed. 

Dean's cheeks burned with embarrassment. He reminded himself that tonight he had given Cas free reign to do what he wanted and agreed to play along as far as he could. Being fed like this wasn't terrible, but Dean wasn't nearly enjoying it as much as Cas. 

Cas's reform lesson continued until it was just this side of humiliating. He didn't speak to Dean at all, held out condescendingly small bits of eggplant, and only moved the fingers from under his chin long enough for Dean to take another bite. 

Dinner was slow going but there's a steady rhythm to it. Dean was vaguely aware the Castiel's attentions were completely on him; he hadn't eaten the meal at all. He couldn't think what could be so fascinating about the scene. 

It took an agonizingly long time before Cas has fed Dean enough that his stomach is actually starting to feel full. And when Castiel lifted the next fork to Dean's mouth he refused, pressing his lips together. Tomato sauce smeared along the line of Dean's lips as the fork of eggplant came forward. Castiel could take the hint and knew Dean had had enough. He dragged his thumb over Dean's mouth, wiping it clean. 

For Dean, the gesture felt better suited for a mother and child. He pulled away from the touch.

Seeing Dean's expression harden, Castiel tilted his head. “What's the matter?” He wiped his hand with a napkin and set it back on the counter.

Dean wondered if Cas would be disappointed that he wasn't having any fun. “Downtime,” Dean said through clenched teeth. In the safety of downtime, Dean hoped that he would be able to sort out what exactly had upset him during the scene. In the moment, he felt too heated to really think straight. 

Being angry at Castiel was completely foreign to him. At the surface, he knew Cas was only making his point about the table manners; it was a game and he went along with it. But now that it was over, Dean should have been happy, relieved. Instead, he was left with a queasy, tight feeling in his stomach. 

“It's still early, but we could have downtime now if you like.” Castiel searched Dean's face for some indication of what was wrong. “In fact, we should do it now if you are too upset to continue.”

Dean kept his eyes on the floor, “It can wait.” Running a hand over his face, Dean took a deep breath. “You should eat, Cas. We'll talk after.” He hoped Castiel wouldn't be too offended by his criticisms.

Castiel served himself a small tower of eggplant and a piece of the garlic toast. He ate methodically, not tasting the food. Seeing Dean upset was unnerving. Castiel's free hand fiddled with the napkin on the counter as he finished his dinner. He wished to be stroking Dean's hair, pulling him closer, but it was obvious that he was quite troubled by something. Castiel watched him out of the corner of his eye.

Dean stayed slumped at his feet, occasionally curling his hands into fists and then letting his arms hang loose. Castiel forced himself to let Dean be and by the time he had finished eating, Dean seemed to have calmed himself down. 

Castiel placed his dirty dish in the sink and covered the leftovers with foil. He left the mess in the kitchen to tend to the more pressing matter of Dean.

As Castiel stacked the leftover tins on the stove, Dean stood up and went directly to the couch. Castiel joined him in the living room, but sat in the armchair. He spoke in a calm, firm tone, “Kneel at my feet.”

Dean scoffed, “Not in the mood, Cas.” He looked like he was gearing up to sulk for the rest of the night.

“I know.” Cas breathed out through his nose. “Please, trust me. Come here, rest your head here.” Castiel pat his lap.

With an exaggerated sigh, Dean reluctantly pushed himself from the couch and knelt in front of Castiel. He folded his arms stiffly over Castiel's khaki-clad knees and brought his chin to rest on his arms. He closed his eyes to avoid staring at Castiel's crotch.

“Look at me, please.” Castiel ran his fingers through Dean's hair and held onto the back of his neck. He gently turned Dean's face upward. “Tell me what you are thinking, what you're feeling.”

Dean saw that Castiel was confused and he worried that Cas might have been hurt by his cutting the scene short. The thought immediately brought Dean's frustration to a head. He had every right to stop Cas from chastising him and treating him like a kid. Dean's jaw tensed as he ground his teeth together.

“It's OK, Dean. Talk to me.”

“I'm pissed, alright.” He let out a puff of air and tried to turn away, but Castiel held him in place. “That wasn't what I wanted.”

Castiel held his gaze, “I thought tonight was about what I wanted.”

“It was, it _is_. But, Cas, when we started the mood was perfect.” Dean wanted to tell Cas how turned on he became just by being told to kneel. He wished Castiel could have read his mind and fulfilled his fantasies, instead of feeding him the way he did.

Raising an eyebrow, Castiel sighed. “When we started you weren't even paying attention.”

“No. I mean, yeah I drifted off a bit, but I was thinking of _you_. Thinking of... it doesn't matter. I don't mind the joking around about how I eat. I know I don't have the best dining etiquette.” He made a face, but was careful not to roll his eyes. “But when you started holding my mouth shut to chew...” Dean shook his head, “That was humiliating. I don't like that.” Dean struggled to find a way to tell Castiel that eating by his hand had felt like the most intimate thing they shared before their first kiss. “That scene made me really uncomfortable.” Dean wasn't so angry that he wanted to deliberately hurt Castiel's feelings.

“Why didn't you safeword?” Castiel's expression was severe, but Dean didn't understand why safewording would even come up.

“What? It didn't hurt, OK; I wasn't scared or something.”

Frowning, Castiel explained, “You said it yourself, you were pissed and really uncomfortable by the scene. That counts for us. You're not some toy to me. I'm not out to beat you down and degrade your worth. I care about you and respect you. I never wanted to make you feel like that. Dean, you're my... boyfriend.” Castiel said it as if trying out the word for the first time. “And my sub. I apologize for my part in your feeling humiliated. Let me make it up to you.”

It wasn't often that someone apologized to him and even less that the apology seemed sincere. Dean continued to pout, but he was starting to feel better. And having Castiel call him his boyfriend definitely helped his mood. He shrugged, “Whatever you want to do.”

Castiel rubbed his palm over Dean's neck, “Is there something else you wanted to tell me about this week?”

Guilt flooded Dean's veins as he remembered the bible full of cash on his bookshelf, but there was no way in hell he would bring that up now. He tucked his whole money situation into a neat little box, duct taped the shit out of it, and stowed it deep in the closet of his mind. 

He looked up at Castiel, “That kiss at your door. I was hoping that would carry over into the weekend.”

Castiel gave a nod, but continued to study Dean's face. Some emotion flickered behind his features, but Castiel couldn't catch it. “Anything else?”

“That’s what I was thinking about before we started,” Dean admitted, finally. “Kissing you.”

“When your thoughts drifted?”

“Yes. I wasn’t ignoring you or zoning out on purpose. Before dropping you off last night, being fed by your hands was the closest thing I had to that.”

“To a kiss.”

“Yeah.” Dean had been looking forward to dinner because it thrilled him to please Castiel. He had wanted to suck sauce from Castiel's fingers and to lick crumbs from his palm, but now the memory of the scene left a sour feeling in his stomach.

Castiel looked softly upon Dean. He knew he had pushed him too far. “This, today, was still your time to explore our relationship beyond the D/s aspect. I should not have taken that away from you.”

“It’s not that, I wanted to…” Dean felt the need to retract his complaint, afraid that Castiel would think that he was weak.

“You had specific expectations for our interactions during dinner. And instead of consulting you, I tried something different.” Castiel carded his hand through Dean's hair. “I should have checked in with you. You could have… I hope you know that you can always tell me when you are not enjoying our time together.”

Dean squeezed Castiel’s knees in his arms, wrapping his hands underneath. He hated to hear Castiel talk like that, like spending time with him could be anything less than amazing. But now Dean understood a little better why Castiel was so insistent on honesty and downtime. Castiel didn't become hostile or passive aggressive when Dean expressed his feelings about the scene. Instead, he seemed relieved.

Castiel stroked his neck until Dean laid his head down in his lap, starting to relax. “I like this, you know. Like us.”

With a small sound of contentment, Castiel acknowledged, “I like us as well.”

“So, Cas, are we… We’re really doing this, huh? Dating?”

“I believe that’s what we’ve been doing. Did you dislike when I referred to you as my boyfriend? Would you prefer partner?”

“Don’t know. It wasn’t bad, just different. Never really been a _partner_ before.”

Castiel sat back, “Up here.” He helped Dean onto his feet and pulled gently until Dean was straddling his lap. “Dean,” he held onto the man’s hips and waited for Dean to look at him. “I have cared for you since before I met you. Now that I’m getting to know you, those feelings I have for you have only increased. Nothing about tonight or this week has changed that. I wish to continue caring for you as my partner and my friend. Be my boyfriend?”

Dean answered him quietly and dropped his gaze to Castiel’s lips. He waited for Castiel to close the space between them, and when he did, Dean crushed their mouths together. 

Dean looked down at Castiel. The full lips glistened with their saliva, inviting him in for another kiss, and Dean found that he couldn't resist. When he moved to bring his hands up to Castiel's hair, Dean was met with resistance. 

Castiel took Dean's wrists in hand and held them between their chests. Their lips rolled together, Castiel's tongue more enthusiastic than before. Dean closed his eyes. And Castiel followed suit. He lost himself in the moment, holding Dean, tasting him. They panted together, the air hot and sticky between them. 

Dean broke their kiss to catch his breath. His eyes were still closed, face hovering close to Castiel, “Are you gonna stay the night?”

Cas licked his lips, already missing the pressure of Dean's mouth. He blinked up at Dean, “Why do you ask?”

There was a nervous pause as Dean thought back to their contract. He felt Castiel's hands tighten on his wrists, a comforting restraint grounding Dean in the moment. “You said you would stay with me any night we scened.”

“I did. I will.” Castiel confirmed.

Dean rolled his shoulders, “So, dinner...”

“It counts, Dean.” He brought a hand up to lift Dean's chin. “Of course, I wouldn't leave you after that. Especially not when you told me how it made you feel.”

He didn't seem convinced, but when had Castiel ever lied to him? “You didn't bring a bag.”

Castiel knew Dean was right. Tomorrow was still a work day for him and he would have to run home and change before work. It wasn't impossible, but it would be a hassle. “Perhaps you would like to take a walk with me? I can pick up a change of clothes and then we can stop at Gabriel's for dessert.”

Dean and Castiel layered up for their short trek across town. The night was starting to get dark and they stayed close to each other. Dean took every opportunity to brush his hand against Castiel’s as they walked. He was never denied the contact, but Cas didn’t seem to pick up on the cue that he wanted more. 

They made small talk at first, mapping out the way and sharing comments about the weather. When they fell into a comfortable silence, Castiel's thoughts began to drift. Castiel worried about moving too fast with Dean. Was he seriously going to introduce Dean to Gabriel as his boyfriend tonight? 

He recalled his last relationship, how he struggled to reconcile their differences before the inevitable and painful breakup. In the beginning, Markus did everything as Castiel instructed, but he ended up being into more pain than Cas could possible inflict in good conscience. Purposely causing arguments and defying Castiel's direction, Markus incited Castiel to punishment. True, the young man became putty afterward, soaking up Castiel's care with unquenchable thirst. But the constant fighting left Castiel emotionally exhausted and he wondered how he could ever think he was in love with someone like that.

He felt Dean's cold hand graze his arm as they walked. Being with Dean was different than what Cas had had before. Dean didn't blindly follow Castiel's demands and he didn't cover up his feelings. As far as Cas could see, Dean wore his heart on his sleeve. Dean openly admitted that he didn't like how he was being treated, giving Castiel an opportunity to make it better for both of them. 

“What do you want to do after this?” Dean asked, tickling his fingertips against Castiel's palm. 

Finally, Castiel spread his fingers and weaved their hands together. “I thought I might get to spend some time with my little cub. Do you think you are feeling up to it?” 

“Yeah.” Dean barely contained his excitement as he tightened his grip on Cas's hand. Castiel took such good care of him as a cub. It was one of the reasons he couldn't wait for the weekend, a time when he could experiment with that hidden part of him that yearned for Castiel to take him in and fulfill his most primitive desires. 

Castiel hummed at Dean's enthusiasm. “We could use this time to plan it out. I believe it would help us to clarify any expectations for the scene.”

Dean nodded but said that he didn't know how to plan a scene.

As they walked, Castiel tried to elicit Dean's preferences by asking him a few pointed questions. “What is the main theme of the scene? How should the it end?”

They came upon Castiel's block, walking on the opposite sidewalk from the house. Dean saw the building grow as they approached and his response caught in his throat. 

Cas turned to him with blank expression, patiently awaiting an answer.

With a small cough to cover his hesitation, Dean stopped beneath the soft glow of the street light. “I'd like for you to decide to keep me, him, the cub.” Dean felt as if he had been cast aside so many times that he should be numb to it. Unfortunately, each person that turned their back on Dean cut him deeper than the one before. He thought about how attached he had become to Cas over the last few weeks. It scared him to consider Castiel may, one day, decide he made a mistake by being with him. 

Cas tilts his head to the side, eyes squinted. “Was I considering the alternative?”

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the lamp post. He doesn't lift his eyes from the pavement, “Well, maybe I did something that was really bad. Like, destroyed something of yours. And you think I'm not worth it... But you change your mind.”

The look of dejection on Dean's face sparked a possessive burn in Castiel's chest. Cas knew it was delusional to believe that Dean could never do anything to make him question his worth. But in the moment, he only wanted to push the doubt from Dean's mind, bring him peace and security. If this scene could help Dean see that he deserved second chances, then Castiel would happily play along. 

“That sounds agreeable. How would you like to explain the cubs absence?” Castiel reached out to run his fingers through Dean's hair, curling around his ear. “Has he been hiding in the apartment since the weekend, or maybe he ran off to explore?”

Dean shook his head, “He wouldn't run away.” His mouth twisted while he thought; Castiel could see the gears turning. “Maybe he's been living with you this whole time. Getting used to having someone look out for him. Maybe he acts out because you had to stay late at work and he was scared you weren't coming back or something.” 

Dean looked up to see Castiel standing much closer than he knew. 

Cas leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Dean's cheek. “Of course.” 

Taking Dean's arm in hand, Castiel helped him across the street to the white house. He unlocked the door and welcomed Dean into his home. 

Dean became side-tracked immediately. Castiel's looked like a magazine, with tall plants in the corners and a weird combination of furniture that somehow came together. He pulled Castiel into the living room, spotting shelves of knick-knacks and photos of who he assumed were Cas's brothers. Little figurines lined the highest shelf like soldiers. 

“Are these from Michael?” Dean strained his neck to see the wood and stone carvings. Each one was unique in it's ethnicity: style of clothes, features, materials. 

“Indeed.” Castiel placed a hand on Dean's shoulder for support as he stood on tip-toe to grab a frame from the high shelf. “This is Michael,” his mouth quirked up in a sad smile as he offered the photograph to Dean. 

Dean could have guessed. The man in the photograph was holding a haz-mat hood in his hands, staring at the camera without a smile. To Dean, he looked like a blend of Castiel and his brief glimpse of Gabriel. Michael had sandy-blond hair and a complexion like Gabriel, but he held himself seriously like Cas. Dean guessed that if he was surrounded by war, poverty, and infectious diseases, he wouldn't be smiling too much either. “Where was this taken?”

“Mozambique.” Cas took the frame to replace it on the shelf. Before setting it down, Castiel ran his fingers over the glass. “I miss him.”

Dean slipped his arms around Castiel's waist from behind. “When's the last time you saw him?” Castiel breathed a sigh and turned in the embrace. 

“He lived here for a few months last summer, when Gabriel bought the candy store. This city isn't for him. He needs to be the hero. I think he left before his unit even requested him back in the field.” Castiel kissed the frown from Dean's mouth. He didn't want his pity. Cas had never blamed his brothers for their wanderlust, but it wasn't something he could relate to. “You think you are ready to meet Gabriel?”

“Ha. No. Is there anything I should know?” Dean hoped he could get Gabriel alone at some point to find out what Cas liked to do for his birthday. Getting in touch with Michael crossed his mind as well.

Castiel thought a moment. “I would not eat the food he offers you. He, sadly, finds great humor in causing others intestinal discomfort with his trick-or-treats.”

“But Halloween is over a month away.”

“He has never before waited on a specific date for permission to amuse himself,” Castiel urged him to use caution.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel placed a kiss to Dean's hair and was rewarded by the sound of a low rumble from deep in Dean's chest. The purr vibrated between them, tickling and soothing all at once. Castiel pulled Dean closer and his fingers curled around the short hairs behind Dean's ear. He couldn't resist kissing him again.

Chapter 10

Stepping out of the dark street and into Ambrosia felt like staring into the sun. Dean shielded his eyes with an arm as Gabriel pulled them into the bright storefront. The enthusiatic man pounced on Castiel with a wide smile and tight hug. Dean stepped in behind them, blinking in an effort to adjust to the light.

“Cassie!” Gabriel's voice was nothing like Dean would imagine of a Novak. It was bright and jovial, higher in pitch than Castiel's. As he spoke, he seemed in a constant state of delight. Such a contrast to the dark, serious tone to which Dean had become accustomed. “Kali had a feeling you might stop by this weekend.” He outstretched his hand to Dean, greeting him while still embracing Castiel. “And you are?”

“Dean, good to meet you.” His grip was firm as he shook hands behind Castiel's back. 

Hooking his chin over Castiel's shoulder, Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the stranger. “Pleasure's mine, I'm sure.” 

Castiel felt Gabriel hold Dean's hand longer than necessary, more of a stand-off than welcome. “That's enough.” He pushed himself from his brother, breaking the awkward handshake. “Gabriel, behave.”

A sinister look in his eyes, Gabriel looked over Dean's frayed jeans, stained boots, and worn leather jacket. Standing stark still under Gabriel's stare, Dean looked like catalog print modeling expensive cologne that probably smelled like gasoline. His gaze lingered in assessment as he wondered what Castiel was doing with this guy. Gabriel assumed Dean was more of a love 'em and leave 'em, running fast and loose. He didn't come across as the shy, quiet type Castiel had gone for in the past. Though Gabriel had to admit that he was impressed Cassie had landed himself such a handsome greaser.

“Don't worry about us, little brother.” Gabriel shifted, bringing himself to face Dean full-on. “Kali's in the back mixing fudge. I'm sure she could use a hand.”

Cas nodded at him before heading to the back of the shop. “You have 5 minutes, Gabriel.” 

Dean looked between them, feeling like this whole thing was a set up. 

Gabriel's toothy grin meant trouble and the arm he wrapped around Dean's shoulders tightened like a vice. 

Dean wasn't used to being on the receiving end of an older brother inquisition, but he stood his ground well. Gabriel mostly asked about Dean's work. He teased Dean about his grease-stained fingernails but his comments weren't as abrasive as Dean had heard before and Dean could certainly admire a guy who looked out for family. 

It was when Gabriel turned the conversation to Dean's relationship with Castiel, that Dean truly earned his approval. Dean talked about Castiel with such affection and detail that Gabriel decided the guy couldn't be all bad. Maybe he had jumped to conclusions about this one. Of course, the real test was in the way Castiel felt about Dean and as far as Gabriel could tell, Cassie was in deep. Gabriel listened with rapt attention as Dean rambled on about which of Castiel's quirks and habits had struck a particular chord with Dean. Dean was just about to broach the subject of Castiel's birthday when they were interrupted. 

Castiel came back, as promised, five minutes later with Kali in tow. But Dean didn't need saving. He held up his hand, signaling the need for another five minutes. Kali and Cas shared an amused look before busying themselves with the glass cases. Waiting for the men to finish their member's only meeting, they rotated the cookies and made up boxes of what would go stale if left out another day.

Dean turned his back to them, shielding the view of his hands as he traded phones with Gabriel. “Can you add Michael's number, too?” He asked while punching his contact information into Gabriel's cell.

“Yeah?” Gabriel laughed as his thumbs entered the request, “You want Luc and Rafe, as well?”

“No, well, I, uh, hadn't thought of it. I just thought he was closest to you and Michael.”

“Right, yeah. Well, if you do end up sticking around you'll have to subject yourself to them anyway.” He handed Dean his phone. “What did you have in mind?”

Dean tucked his phone into his pocket and gave Gabriel his own. “Was gonna ask if Michael might come for Cas's birthday. He'd probably be around in time to see the baby too.”

Gabriel huffed. “Don't hold your breath.” It was a kind thought to invite the brothers together, especially for Castiel's sake since he was the only one of them that seemed to hold a sense of family anymore, but Gabriel doubted Dean's ability for persuasion. The others had split the four corners of the world and rarely looked back. “I mean, Michael is a busy man, you know?”

Dean shrugged, slightly deflated. He realized it would be a challenge and an investment on Michael's part, but Dean knew this was the best gift he could offer to Castiel. Things had gone pretty well between him and Gabriel, but Michael would be a totally different animal. He was the oldest of all of them and he'd probably be the toughest nut to crack. “You think he'll hate me?”

“Nah. But it's more likely he'd drag his ass back state-side if he did.” Gabriel laughed harder than Dean thought was appropriate. 

While Dean and Gabriel huddled at the sandwich counter, Kali spoke with Castiel about the baby. She was exhausted. Although she carried the pregnancy well, the baby was already poised for birth which made for a very uncomfortable third term. She encouraged Castiel to touch her belly and feel the baby as it squirmed about. 

“You'll want kids of your own someday, yes?”

Castiel's hand lingered over the fluttering patch of skin. He wondered if it was a foot or hand. “I'd be happy just stealing yours for the moment.” 

“Oh, please.” She laughed as Gabriel came up beside her. “Take it now!” 

“Cassie, get your hands off my wife,” he teased. Gabriel held Kali at arms length, “Would you just look at her? Have you ever seen a more beautiful woman?” He peppered kisses over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose as the others averted their eyes in an offer of privacy.

Cas looked up to find Dean smiling at him and his heart throbbed, feeling much too big for the space it was given. 

Gabriel startled them both when he cleared his throat. “If you guys could give us a hand with the last batches of fudge, we'll be happy to send you home with a few boxes of old cookies and chocolate.” 

 

Castiel had every right to gloat over his boyfriend. Dean put himself to work at once, following Kali's instructions to the letter. He moved like he was at home in the cramped kitchen and was such a fast learner that Kali was able to sit back and direct him from the comfort of her seat without worrying that he would burn the caramel or let the milk boil over. There was an easy energy between the couples and Castiel appreciated the way Gabriel was giving Dean a chance. Even Kali gave a small nod of approval when Castiel caught her eye. They worked for another hour before the final molds were poured and Gabriel was finally ready to close up. 

By the time Gabriel dropped them off at the coffeehouse beneath Dean's apartment, Kali was snoring loudly in the front seat. “She blames it on the baby's position, but I haven't got the heart to tell her she's been sawing logs for as long as I've known her.” He paused at the curb to let them out, “Well, thanks for coming by. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Gabriel.” Castiel pulled himself and his overnight bag out of the car while Dean fumbled with his seat belt to stall. 

Dean clapped Gabriel on the shoulder, “Thanks for the ride, man. I'll let you know how it goes with Michael.” He heard a grunt that sounded like a wish for luck as Dean joined Castiel on the side walk. 

Cas nudged Dean as they made their way up the narrow flight of stairs, “Looks like you made a new friend tonight.”

“What, me and Gabe?” Dean slung the bag of baked goods over his wrist so he could unlock the door to the apartment. “The guy's a pussy cat.” With a sly look, Dean helped Castiel out of his coat and slung it onto a hanger. “Speaking of...” He bat his lashes in overt attempt at seduction. “Do you think we have time to play before bed?”

Castiel's watch informed them that it was technically early enough to run the scene if they kept to the one hour limit, but Cas had something else in mind that he thought might serve them better. “How about we save that scene for tomorrow? Tonight, if you want, kitty and I could get reacquainted for a bit.” Castiel offered Dean the chance to flex his role play muscles a little before jumping into such an emotional scene. 

 

…

 

Dean and Castiel agreed to change into their bedclothes before meeting up at the pullout couch. Slinking through the hallway on all fours, Dean found Castiel already sitting among the pillows with the TV remote at his side. He watched as Dean took his time in approaching the bed. Bare chested, Dean's shoulders rolled as he lifted his hands and knees in sync, crawling over the floor in long, lithe movements. Dean paused at the foot of the pullout and slid his back along the cool metal frame, arching at the touch. 

Dean knew what he was doing. Contractually, their pet play wasn't supposed to be sexy. But tonight, being on his hands and knees felt anything but chaste. His skin prickled with anticipation as he mindfully post-poned the moment he would feel Castiel's hands on his body. He imagined, that if their relationship wasn't moving at such a glacial pace, he could successfully seduce Castiel with a purr and a few well-placed licks. Hell, he could probably get himself off like this; just crawling around had managed to take him to half-mast with little to no effort on Cas's part. Dean dawdled next to the bed, rubbing himself against the armrest.

Castiel had waited long enough. Making swishing sounds by pushing air through his teeth, he called for Dean to climb up. Kitty settled into place, kneading at the fold of blankets and curling himself into a ball at Castiel's hip. Bringing his head to rest on the thigh before him, Dean tucked his knees into his chest. The pajama bottoms were soft beneath his cheek, Castiel's body heat warming the fabric.

The apartment was quiet but for the sound of their breath and as Castiel's hand came to rest on his head, and Dean had never felt more at home in this place.

With a tender hand, Castiel passed his fingers down Dean's neck and over his spine. A trail of goosebumps raised over Dean's exposed skin as Castiel continued his caresses. 

Looking upon Dean's resting form, Castiel thought back to Ambrosia. 

He hadn't brought anyone to meet his family before - not even Markus, especially not Markus. To see Gabriel hit it off so easily with his boyfriend had been breathtaking. Of course Castiel trusted that his brother would be considerate of his choice, but he delighted in the way Gabriel seemed genuinely impressed. Expecting jokes and an invasive line of questioning, Castiel had braced himself for all kinds of embarrassment before bringing Dean into the shop. Instead, something had happened between the men when they talked alone. Some kind of understanding or mutual respect had blossomed in their short conversation. Castiel didn't ask. What was said between Dean and Gabriel, he did not need to know.

Castiel decided to call Michael the next day. While Dean was at work, he would have ample time to introduce his eldest brother to the idea that he was in a relationship again after so long. Michael would be happy for him, he thought. 

There was a strange sensation of pressure on Castiel's thigh and Dean looked as though he was trying to burrow into the muscle. Dean wouldn't permit Castiel's mind to wander.

Castiel shushed him and brought a blanket over his shoulders. “I've got you. You've got my attention.” 

Dean scooted himself further up Castiel's side and tucked under his Master's arm. Castiel placed a kiss to Dean's hair and was rewarded by the sound of a low rumble from deep in Dean's chest. The purr vibrated between them, tickling and soothing all at once. Castiel pulled Dean closer and his fingers curled around the short hairs behind Dean's ear. He couldn't resist kissing him again. 

They settled down among the pillows and turned on the television. With the glowing light of the screen, Castiel saw no need for the lamp and easily pulled the chord without disturbing Dean's position. He would have left the light on all night if moving meant separating from Dean right then. 

Castiel found a mockumentary about mermaid investigations and continued to twist the strands of Dean's hair between his fingers as they watched pretend scientists review their footage. It was interesting enough, but Castiel only put it on for some light and background noise. His focus was, as it had been more often than not, on Dean. 

 

…

 

Castiel woke in the morning to the sound of a yelly infomercial about detergent. He had to remind himself it was Friday because his body could have sworn it was the weekend. There was something oddly inviting about his bed today, despite his aching back and the crick in his neck. He hoped to enjoy it for a few more minutes of sleep before his alarm went off. Rolling onto his side, Castiel draped an arm over what he'd assumed was a stray pillow. But this pillow was hard and hot and moved with a groan.

Castiel waited for the panic, but it never came. He hadn't meant to fall asleep with Dean, but nothing about waking next to him was ringing the anticipated alarms. How could he get upset when Dean was wriggling himself closer, his shoulders and hips shimmying until his back was pressed fully against Castiel's chest? Feeling content and reassured, Castiel held Dean against him and returned to sleep.

The alarm chimed at 5:30AM, signaling the start of another work day. But when Castiel tried to reach for the phone to silence it, he found he was being held firmly in place. Dean clung to his arm, hugging it across his waist. With a few jerks, he slid his arm free, waking Dean in the process. Although he felt badly for disturbing his rest, Castiel knew it would be exponentially harder for him to rise out of bed with Dean still in it. The urge to curl back into his warmth was far too tempting.

Feeling Castiel move and grunt in discomfort, Dean rolled to the other side of the mattress in a stretch. It had been a long time since he had woken up in the arms of anyone, but he couldn't remember the last time he had actually dreaded seeing them leave for work. Rubbing his face and eyes, Dean yawned. “Can you believe the evidence they found? That was crazy stuff! Mermaids. I knew there was more to the old sailor stories than manatees and dolphins.” 

Castiel craned his neck to stretch out his own kinks. “Dean, it's too early for sarcasm.”

“Who's being sarcastic?” Dean wiggled his way back up the mattress so that his head could rest on the pillows. He looked at Castiel's hooded eyes and pinched face. “You are really not a morning person, are you?”

With another grunt, Castiel flopped onto his back. “Coffee.”

“Yes, sir!” Dean rolled out of bed to make them a fresh pot for the morning. He'd emphasized the 'sir' to let Cas know that he hadn't forgot about their schedule. Today he was back to being his submissive for the weekend. It was something Dean found that he was actually looking forward to. 

In the kitchen, Dean fumbled with the coffee filter and can of breakfast blend. He was never much of a snob when it came to a simple cup-of-joe, but all of the sudden it seemed important to measure how many spoons of coffee grinds for how many cups of water. He smiled to himself, aware of how ridiculous he was being. 

He waited for the coffee to percolate, then downed his cup in a few large gulps. It only burned a little bit. Pouring Castiel a mug of his own, Dean grabbed the last muffin from the cupboard. He brought Cas breakfast in bed, kneeling beside the couch before handing his Dom the items. 

With a sigh of relief, Castiel inhaled his coffee. “Thank you, Dean. Very good boy.”

Pleased with himself, Dean folded his arms on the mattress and rested his head to watch Castiel as he ate. He didn't have to leave for work for hours, but not a bone in his body protested. Being awake at the moment meant he'd have more time with Castiel. And that was better than any dream. 

Castiel sniffed at the muffin before taking a bite. “Apple strusel muffins, apples and cinnamon on pancakes. Am I sensing a theme?” 

Dean's voice came muffled by the way his cheek pressed into his arm, “Apple's my favorite.” 

 

…

 

Castiel had time after work before Dean would be getting home, so he stopped at the grocery to pick up a few items. He had a hunch that the kitten scene would be a bit intense for Dean as he worked out his abandonment fantasy, so he had an idea to help cheer him up afterward. 

Quickly moving through the store, Castiel grabbed a box of already made pie crust and a can of apple filling. It wouldn't be as good as the scratch recipe Gabriel had taught him, but he'd make that another day. He had seen a pie plate in Dean's cabinets by the casserole dish, so he decided against buying another. 

The ingredients fit awkwardly in his briefcase, but were well hidden by the time Dean met up with Castiel at the cafe. They didn't say a word to each other until the door was closed and locked behind them. 

Castiel set his briefcase by the coat hanger and hung up his jacket. 

“Dean.” He looked cautiously over the man as he stood near the door. Dean's eyes were already cast downward, arms relaxed at his sides, breathing evenly. But to Castiel everything about it seemed forced. 

“Dean, look up at me.” His fingers brushed against the stubble beneath Dean's chin. “It's going to be fine.”

Dean nodded, taking another deep breath in through his nose and exhaling past his lips. He was nervous and excited about the scene. It was one of his biggest fears, being left behind and tossed aside, but it was also something he had a lot of experience with. He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to act it out, why he allowed so much of himself into their play. Dean saw Castiel's eyebrows quiver in concern and made up his mind. He turned up his mouth in a nervous smile, “Ready, sir.”

Castiel kissed Dean's lips, brief and tight. “Go, take a shower first. Take as much time as you need. When you're done I'll get washed up as well and we can start.”

Regardless Castiel told him there was no need to rush, Dean was showered and 'dressed' in record time. He slipped out of the bathroom wearing boxers and a towel, found Castiel crouched by the couch, setting out a pair of old tennis shoes presumably for Dean to destroy. 

Castiel heard Dean come into the living room, “Tear them up however you want. They're of no other use to me now.”

Dean opened his mouth to add something, but shut it with a frown. He knew he wasn't supposed to speak unless asked a question. 

Castiel saw his jaw snap closed, hyper aware of Dean's movements and energy since he had decided to go through with the scene. “Speak.” Kitty was supposed to be feeling like Castiel didn't want him anymore, so Castiel spoke curtly to Dean, not wanting to throw off the energy by coddling him. 

“I could start while you're showering,” Dean suggested. He didn't let any emotion through his voice though his stomach already doing somersaults. “Like, when you come out of the bathroom you can see the mess and stuff.”

Standing up, Castiel crossed the room to his bag. “Good,” he agreed, finding his change of clothes. “When I return, I want you hiding behind your bedroom door. Like the first day. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered mechanically, but Dean didn't think that kitty would hide after destroying the sneakers. Had he ruined his Master's shoes out of separation anxiety or anger, to teach him a lesson: don't leave me alone. Dean thought that either way, kitty would not hide. He'd either sit by his destruction with smug satisfaction, or be found still nervously tearing the laces. Dean didn't argue with Castiel this time and wracked his brain for a way that he could reconcile his understanding of kitty's actions with Castiel's command. 

Castiel left and Dean made a space for himself, sat on the living room floor and picked up Castiel's old runner shoe. Turning the sneaker over in his hands, Dean dug into the rubber soles, seeking out weak spots in the seams. 

At first, he was just himself preparing props for the scene. It was mindless work, tearing holes in the fabric until he started to get into character. 

He thought about what it would be like to wait for Cas for hours, without a call or explanation of his absence. He imagined a half-assed apology, Cas claiming Dean was overreacting or making a fuss out of nothing. Dean twisted the memories of past hurts and put Castiel's face on his transgressors. The images filed through his consciousness in unremitting sequence. Gradually and then all at once, Dean entered the kind of headspace that the scene demanded. 

His fingers moved savagely over the cloth and rubber until the shoes were nothing but scraps and his eyes were hot with tears. 

It felt dangerous to lose control like this, but Dean couldn't think about anything other than betrayal. The feelings were no longer a fantasy of _what if_ Castiel left him. Dean remembered all of the times in his life that people he cared about turned their back on him. From his parents to his brother, employers and friends, Dean couldn't think of anyone who had never let him down. It was inevitable that Castiel would be nothing more than a temporary fixture in his life.

The creak of the bathroom door startled Dean and he noticed he hadn't moved from his spot near the couch. He was not where he promised to be. 

Jumping to his feet, Dean grabbed a mangled shoe and moved quickly to the bedroom. Once there, he resumed his angry work with trembling hands. 

Castiel peeked around the door in time to see Dean rushing into the bedroom. _Good._ With Dean out of the way, he was able to sneak into the kitchen and set the pie to bake. Not preheating the oven was definitely some kind of blasphemy but they didn't have time for that and Castiel didn't think it mattered. He covered the edge of crust with foil and set the timer for 50 minutes. Castiel estimated that in half that time the entire apartment would be smelling like hot apple pie. 

Passing through the hallway, Castiel pulled on his trench coat and walked into the living room. He gasped at the sight, impressed initially and then quite concerned. He couldn't really call what was left a shoe. The only thing Dean couldn't seem to tear apart were the laces, which had been tossed onto the lampshade. Strips of cloth and rubber were scattered around the floor like confetti. 

Castiel raised his voice as he stomped around the apartment 'in search of' the cub. 

“What's gotten into you,” he shouted when he found Dean in the bedroom, gnawing on the tongue of his sneaker. Castiel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pressed his face into the tattered remains. “We don't do this! Bad kitty. No! Bad boy.” 

Dean hissed and bared his teeth at Castiel even as his hand pushed him to the floor. The way his thoughts swirled red, Dean didn't have presence of mind to tell himself that this was all part of the scene they had discussed. He was genuinely angry that Castiel would hold him down and yell in his face. He felt justified as he gnashed his teeth at the hand that held him. Twisting out of Castiel's grip, Dean moved toward the door as if planning to escape. 

“No.” Castiel's command rang out deep and imposing. He stood tall in the exit and nudged Dean back into the room with the side of his foot. “You're in time out until I decide what to do with you. Stay in here until you learn to behave.” 

The sound of the door slamming shut rang through the apartment.

 _No, no no no._ Dean did not want to be left alone again. He knew that his Master was angry, but he couldn't bare to be in isolation right now. Leaning his head heavily against the door, Dean clawed at the wood in a desperate attempt to call Castiel back. He continued scratching long after Castiel had gone. 

On the other side of the door Castiel stood and listened, worrying that Dean was losing himself in their play. He could hear the pained whimpers coming from the bedroom and hoped he was doing the right thing leaving him like that. Releasing a breath, Castiel walked back to the living room.

He didn't know if Dean had a vacuum, though he assumed he did, so he cleaned by hand. Picking up the shredded pieces of shoes was slow work and by the time Castiel had cleared the living room of all evidence of kitty's fit, the oven timer read that a quarter of an hour had passed. 

Castiel checked on the pie before heading back to the bedroom. 

He paused outside the door, listening for any clue as to how Dean was fairing. There was a faint sniffing sound, but the clawing had ceased. Castiel turned the knob and slowly opened the door. 

Dean crawled away from the door as it swung into the room. His cheeks were red and blotchy, the skin beneath his eyes raw from the salt of his tears. His sinuses were uncomfortably swollen to the point where he was starting to get a headache. Turning into his shoulder, Dean wiped his eyes and runny nose on his bare arm. 

Castiel lowered to his knees, pulled a tissue from his pocket and cleaned Dean's face. 

Dean allowed Castiel to blot his eyes even though each dab stung his sensitive skin. He'd let Cas do anything he wanted, so long as he didn't need to be alone anymore. Drawing in a shaky breath, Dean choked back a sob. It was almost pathetic how a small act of kindness made him pardon the betrayal of just a few moments ago. But Dean soaked it up like a sponge. 

He leaned into Castiel's touch and inched closer. Dean wanted to press up to Castiel's chest, have those arms and that jacket wrap around him. Surely this was the moment of mercy, Castiel would forgive and decide to keep him. Dean moved in another inch. Then, Castiel pulled away. He was still of two-minds about this cub. 

Dean couldn't say a word. The only thing he had at his disposal was his obedience, so he waited. 

When Castiel stood, Dean crawled to his heel. In his desperation for the comfort of Castiel's touch, Dean brushed up against the tail of his trench coat as they traveled through the rooms. When he walked into the living room, Dean followed as quickly and quietly as he could manage. 

Castiel shrugged off the coat and draped it over the back of the couch next to him. Sitting among the cushions, he turned on the television and made like he was ignoring Dean. 

Dean placed his hands on the cushions to pull himself up, but was met with a swat across his fingers. The couch was off-limits to the trouble-maker, but that wouldn't keep him from trying. 

Castiel continually pushed kitty off of the couch and eventually resorted to using his legs to block Dean from coming near enough to try to climb up. “Sleep, kitty.” He pointed at the ground in aggravation, refusing to look at him. 

Head bowed low, Dean crawled in a circle on the hardwood at the foot of the couch. In an act of lenience, Castiel placed a blanket on the floor. “Lie down.” 

Dean smoothed out the comforter and curled up at Castiel's feet. He positioned himself so that he was just barely touching Castiel's leg and held his breath. Noticing that Castiel did not pull away this time, Dean leaned a little more against his Master before he released a sigh. He tried focusing his attention on the TV screen. Castiel had put on another documentary, this time on the Russian Yeti. Dean found it far less interesting than the mermaids; imagining Castiel as a sasquatch held no appeal.

During commercial breaks, Dean tested for affection until, in time, Castiel allowed him to wrap his arms around his leg and rest his head there. Castiel's hand came to settle on the crown of Dean's head, his fingers moving back and forth in his hair. Dean nuzzled into Cas's thigh with relief. Castiel pet his upturned cheek; his fingers scratched at Dean's light stubble, finding favor just underneath his jaw. 

“Good kitty.”

Dean made a pleased purring sound as Castiel continued to touch. When the hand moved across his jaw and over his lips, Dean flicked out his tongue. It was only meant to be playful, at first. But Castiel's hand lingered at his mouth. 

Dean nosed into Castiel's palm and licked again. 

A low noise came from Castiel and Dean looked up to investigate. Castiel was sitting straight with his eyes trained on the television, not giving any indication that the sound came from him. 

Dean licked his hand again, slowly and deliberately. He watched Castiel's face as his tongue lapped at the man's palm and then trailed over his index finger without interruption. 

Castiel's eyes fluttered closed and another gravelly moan escaped his throat. 

Dean grinned like the cat that got the cream and he covered Castiel's hand in small licks, each one accompanied by a nearly imperceptible kiss. 

Castiel enjoyed a few minutes of this before he caressed Dean's face and patted the couch beside him. 

Dean eagerly climbed into the space next to Castiel, tucking his legs beneath him and to the side. He felt welcome, wanted. The smell of Castiel's cologne was strong on the trench coat and he wondered if Castiel had sprayed it on purpose, knowing that Dean would find comfort in the scent. 

With a lighter heart, he butted his head against Castiel's arm and laid on his shoulder. The program about abominable snowman sightings didn't hold his attention for a moment before Dean was back to nuzzling into Cas with earnest. Turning to face his Master, Dean pressed his forehead against Castiel's shoulder and neck. He could feel Cas struggle not to move as his breath tickled Castiel's skin. 

Ducking his head around the other side of Castiel's face, Dean licked at his throat. 

Castiel shuddered, swearing under his breath. He grabbed Dean with one hand on the base of his skull, the other on his exposed hip. Dipping him across his lap, Castiel brought them nose to nose. “What am I going to do with you?” He tried to close the scene before they went any further.

Dean licked at Castiel's lips.

“Dean.” Castiel's voice was worn, his breathing haggard. He repeated the name again, demanding the pet play end and his submissive, his boyfriend, return. 

Dean's eyes were hooded; rough hands held him down and set fire to his blood. “Yes, sir?” He dragged his tongue across Castiel's mouth again. 

With a possessive growl, Castiel brought their lips together. Dean's body was hot and laid out in front of Castiel like a buffet. 

Keeping one hand at his neck, Castiel moved his other over Dean's stomach and chest. His skin was smooth, muscles twitched beneath Castiel's palm. As he hungrily sucked at Dean's lips, his thumb teased one of Dean's nipple to a hard bud. Dean arched into the touch and he moaned into Castiel's kiss. 

Their tongues warred feverishly for a taste of each other. Dean lifted his arms, trying to pull Castiel on top of him. 

Cas broke their kiss for a moment as he slid out from under Dean and settled between his outstretched legs. Castiel's hand returned to the back of Dean's neck and his lips picked up an assault on the man's throat. 

Dean gasped and his hips thrust up to meet Castiel. Castiel's weight pressed him back into sofa and drew out another moan. He rolled his hips, his erection straining against his boxer briefs. Rubbing along Castiel's own hardness provided little relief to the ache of Dean's arousal. 

Castiel nipped at Dean's swollen lips, panting between them. 

A shrill beeping sounded from the kitchen.

Dean blinked up at Castiel, confused. “Is there something in the oven?” His nose was still swollen and stuffed but he tried sniffing at the air. 

Castiel lifted himself off of the couch and helped Dean to a seated position. “This should only take a moment.”

Dean took that as a cue to stay put, though curiosity threatened to get the best of him. He sniffed harder than before which only led to a snorting, coughing fit.

“Are you OK?” Castiel called from the kitchen.

Dean cleared his throat and coughed again. “Fine, sir.” He adjusted himself in his boxers, sinking down in the couch to relieve some of the strain as he waited for his erection to calm down. The sound of crumpling foil sparked his curiosity again and he felt the need to hold onto the couch cushions to prevent himself from getting up to see what Castiel was cooking. 

In the kitchen, Castiel placed the pie on the stove top to cool. He tossed the ball of aluminum into the trash. He had meant for Dean to smell the pie as it was baking, but he hadn't counted on Dean's nose being out of commission. “Trying to guess what I baked?” Castiel approached Dean from behind the couch.

Dean nodded his head, disappointed he was missing out on whatever had made Castiel so proud of himself. “Yes, sir. Did you make dinner?”

Castiel's eyes went wide and the pleased look fell from his face. _Crap._ He was so excited about the scene and pie that he completely forgot to plan for dinner. “How would you feel about having dessert for dinner?” 

“Seriously?” Dean's eyebrows screwed up in disbelief. “Depends on the dessert, I guess. Sir.”

Castiel gestured for Dean to join him. 

Nearing the kitchen, where the steaming pie's scent was more concentrated, Dean froze. He grabbed Castiel's arm and held him back from the stove. The smell of sweet apples and warm cinnamon hit him like a wave; his mouth watered instantaneously. He saw wisps of steam rising from the golden-brown crust and had to turn away just to keep himself from lunging forward.

Confused, Castiel asked what was wrong.

Dean tugged him back toward the living room, wanting to thank his boyfriend with proper enthusiasm. “Permission to resume making out until that's cooled enough for eating?”

With an amused arch of his eyebrow, Castiel pushed Dean down onto the couch. “Permission granted.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes home feeling dejected and Castiel makes it better. There's pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Can't believe it is already December! I apologize for my hiatus. There were some personal issues that needed attention and it kept me busier than I anticipated.
> 
> HAVE A SUPERNATURAL HOLIDAY, EVERYBODY! 
> 
> Chapter Warnings at the end. All warnings at the end of this chapter are sex-related.

Dean came home from work with a chip on his shoulder.  Saturdays at the garage were usually hectic, but today it wasn't just customers or faulty replacement parts that got under his skin.  Nudging the door closed with the toe of his boot, Dean let out a frustrated sound.

_Michael._

Dean had called him before his shift started, thinking he could get it out of the way and ease the nervous twist of his stomach.  Instead, the failure of a phone call left the mechanic in a rotten mood for the rest of his afternoon.

\--

“Novak, speak.”  Noise in the background carried over the line and made it hard for Dean to even hear the introduction.

“Hello, um, Michael? This is Dean.”  _This is Dean,_ he made a face, but what else was he supposed to say?

There's foreign chatter before the voice is directed back to the phone.  “Who?”

“Dean.”  He spoke louder, though he wasn't sure if that would help.  “Dean Winchester.”  He held onto a thin hope that Castiel may have spoken about him to his eldest brother.

“What can I do for you, Winchester?”  The lilt to Michael's voice made him sound very important and it didn't seem like the name struck a chord with the man.  Dean almost felt guilty for interrupting whatever was going on halfway around the world.

“I hope I'm not wasting your time,” Dean said with a bit of disappointment.

“I can give you five minutes.”

“Perfect.”  Dean won over at least one Novak in less time than that and he was grateful to have at least an opportunity to speak to Michael on Cas's behalf.  He cleared his throat, “I'm calling about Cas.”

“What?”  There's a loud ruckus and some shouting before the line went silent.

Dean thought the call was dropped until he heard Michael's voice again.

“Castiel? What about Castiel?”  He sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him, but it only lasted a few seconds; Dean assured him that there was nothing to worry about.

“He's OK, but his birthday is coming up and Gabe's kid is going to be born soon.”

“Yes, I am quite aware of my brothers,” he said seriously, any trace of panic wiped clean of his tone.  “What I don't understand is why a _Dean Winchester_ is calling to tell me things I already know.”

He could see the man's point, so Dean cut to the chase and asked in as direct terms as possible, if Michael would be able to schedule a visit for Cas's birthday.

“Who are you and what is your involvement with Castiel?”  The question came across flat and without even a note of concern.  It threw Dean off.  So, Cas really hadn't told Michael about their relationship.  This shouldn't have come as such a terrible surprise; Dean hadn't opened up to Sam either.  But the way Castiel held him, looked at him, like he was something important, it made Dean believe that he truly was.  _So stupid._

“I'm, uh, I'm his partner.”  His voice wavered, an audible tell that no matter how much Castiel praised his pet, Dean wasn't sure of his place in the man's life.

“As in business?”

Michael's bored question cut like a knife.

“As in boyfriend,” Dean clarified, hoping his bite came across as annoyance more than hurt.

“Yes, well, if you are asking for my approval or something you haven't got it.”

“I'm not asking for you to approve of me.”  There was only one person he wanted to please.  And as Michael's curt laughter carried across the globe, Dean realized he couldn't give two shits if the guy liked him anymore.  Gabriel was right. Michael was a self-important ass clown who doesn't deserve Castiel's adoration or consideration.  Maybe it _would_ be better if Michael hated him.  “I'm not asking you to do anything for me,” he spat into the phone.  “I was hoping that you would do this for Cas.”

“My answer is 'No'.”  It sounded as if Michael had already moved away from the phone, “I'm very busy at the moment.  Now, if you'll excuse me.”

\--

_Douche-bag._

Even hours later, the continuous stream of swears and name-calling directed at Michael twisted between his ears with the threat of a migraine.  It wasn't that the man had been particularly rude, Dean had certainly dealt with worse.  No, Michael simply refused Dean's request to visit without barely a trace of interest or emotion.  He seemed rather indifferent, casually declining the invitation as if it truly didn't matter one way or the other.

Dean didn't mind so much that Michael blew _him_ off.  He could understand that, almost.  But to blow off Cas?  Now, _that_ got him pissed.

Beyond Michael's refusal, Dean couldn't shake the knowledge that Castiel had kept his existence a secret from his eldest brother, the sibling to whom he claimed to be closest.

With betrayal fresh on his mind, Dean stomped toward the closet, trying to remember why he told himself it was a bad idea to take his phone and a bottle of whiskey to the couch.  Drunk dialling was great, after all.  You were able to say what you really meant and defend yourself later with the excuse of being plastered.  Damn, Dean thought that sounded good right about now.  He had a few choice words to get off his chest.

He glanced toward the couch and was surprised to find the living room occupied, a book resting on Castiel's lap.

Castiel looked over Dean meticulously, taking in the details of his stance and expression.  Something had changed.  This was hardly the same man he had ushered out the door this morning with a kiss and a pat on the butt.  'Good game,' Dean had responded with a wink.  Castiel didn't understand the reference exactly, but the tone seemed to indicate that Dean was in good spirits as he headed off to work.  Castiel knew things at the garage were sub-optimal, but Dean usually perked up once he got home.

Dean's moods shifted with such intensity at times, Castiel wondered how the man ever survived so long at the club.  Cas never treated him with such callus disregard as he'd witnessed there, and yet he was concerned that Dean wasn't faring much better, even with aftercare and downtime.

In downtime he did well, better than Castiel thought he would knowing Dean wasn't used to expressing himself so candidly.  Castiel remembered what Dean had told him thus far: he didn't think massages or being treated nicely counted as dominance, but he liked the massage, enjoyed the spanking, he wasn't ready for whips and paddles, liked having a choice, liked hand-feedings, liked when Castiel came over directly after work, and wanted more kisses.  Castiel gave what he could and had made it a point to be at the apartment to receive Dean as he arrived.  But despite Dean's input during downtime, Castiel hesitated to consider a firmer hand.

“Dean?” He hoped Dean could come around and tell him what was wrong, _ask_ for what he wanted.

Dean closed his eyes and with a deep breath wished away the negativity and bullshit of the afternoon.  Castiel did not need to be bothered with this.  It was his decision not to tell Michael he had a boyfriend.  And Michael declining Dean's invitation wasn't his problem either.  Foremost, Dean wanted to spare Castiel from any hurt that might come out of hearing that Michael had made the choice to stay in Israel.

He lifted his hand to Cas and stepped out of his boots, kicking them into the foot of the closet.  They bounced harder than he intended, but he found it hard to care if they dented the wall.

Seeing Dean struggling to brush off his frustration, Castiel placed his book on the coffee table and went to meet him in the hallway.

Dean stared at Cas, face drawn into a tired frown.  He hated to have Cas see him like this.  It wasn't fair to his Dom to always be picking up his pieces and holding him together. Subs were supposed to be stronger than this.  They were meant to take direction, pain, and punishment without complaint.  It was no wonder Castiel didn't boast about him to his brother.  More often than not, Dean felt like he was on the receiving end of all the energy of their relationship, in perpetual need of rescue.  When was Cas going to see that Dean was capable of providing him with care and attention?

_Probably once you stomp frumping around, ya big baby_ , Dean's brain suggested helpfully.

Dean wanted Castiel to direct him, every movement, every breath.  Whatever he asked for, Dean would do it for him.  But Castiel was silent and calm; patient as always.

Dean looked, really looked, at Castiel and his irritation began to deflate.  Castiel stood across from him with an open expression of acceptance that seemed to say, _Let go. Breathe. Relax._   Like this was just another day.

Castiel was right.  This wasn't the worst day of his life, not by a long-shot.  But it hurt in ways that Dean couldn't quite wrap his head around.  He felt a tug in his chest as he held Castiel's gaze, and threw caution to the wind.

Dean grabbed for Cas and brought him in for a kiss.  “I don't care if I get punishment,” he remarked, wrinkling the starched fabric of Castiel's shirt and kissing him a second and third time.  Dean stumbled backward, the doorknob catching his hip, but he found balance in Castiel's arms.  Castiel allowed him this kiss, hoping it would help him find his way.

“You're here.”  Dean wasn't expecting Cas to have spent his whole day there, but seeing that he had, Dean couldn't imagine coming home to an empty apartment.  His typical remedy for a shit day at work was to flop on the couch with a bottle.  This, however, the feel of Castiel's unyielding embrace and the taste of honey-sweetened coffee on his breath, proved to work just as well.

When Castiel's hands forced him against the door with a shove, Dean thought it may work even better.

“Don't stop,” he moaned into Cas's mouth.  With their lips rolling against each other, Dean's plea was indiscernible.

Castiel's command, on the other hand, came loud and clear.  “Stop talking.”

Dean agreed with it wholly, accepting the warmth of Castiel's lips over and over.  He sighed into them and kissed him harder.  _Screw work; screw Michael._   They had the rest of the weekend and Dean wouldn't let thoughts of Michael sour their time together.

Castiel kissed Dean until their lips were swollen and bruised, feeling Dean unwind in his arms.  Castiel's soft hands held Dean's face as he whispered into his ear.  “Bathe and dress and meet me at the wall.”  Though he certainly enjoyed pinning Dean to the front door, Castiel couldn't let his sub's small rebellion slide without retribution.

Dean pulled away, his plump mouth red.  He nodded, accepting Castiel's instruction and walked past him to the bathroom.

In the back of Dean's closet, Castiel found a pair of green and gold pajama bottoms hung together with a coordinated top.  Tags still on, they were a Christmas gift Dean never bothered to wear.  Castiel set them on the bed for Dean to change into after his shower. He hummed at the idea of tanning Dean's hide a festive shade to match his lips.

After scrubbing away the grease and stink of the garage, Dean found the clothes laid out for him.  He left the tags on at his neck and hip, wearing the irritating cardboard squares like badges of dishonor.  Dean knew that wearing ugly Christmas pjs could only be the beginning of his punishment.

He tried not to sulk as he exited his room.  This time, he definitely brought it on himself and he couldn't deny the small thrill he got in seeing Castiel waiting for him at the wall where Dean had received his first spanking.

Dean walked within a few feet of the wall and held out his arms in preparation to bend, his heart already beating faster.

“Wait.”  Castiel's hand slid up Dean's side and turned him so they were facing each other.  He could sense Dean's eagerness in the way he couldn't hold still, bouncing on the balls of his feet until Castiel demanded he stop.

Dean flinched, sucking in a quick breath as the cool touch grazed his arm.  The hand continued it's route, travelling over Dean's shoulder until it settled behind his neck.

Castiel held him, at arms length, and just looked.  His air of calm masked his inner conflict.  Dean deserved to be kissed and held as often as he wanted.  It didn't seem right to punish him for taking those things, even without permission.  Castiel wondered if anyone had ever been able to satisfy Dean's need before and worried that he had been withholding affection too often.  But Dean knew what he was doing when he pulled Castiel into him at the doorway.  He stated out loud that he knew he would be punished.  Castiel understood that to deny Dean punishment would be tantamount to breaking the trust they'd built between them.

He dropped his voice low and gave his first instruction, “Kiss me.”

Dean's eyes widened for a second before he leaned in with obedience.  Castiel's kisses were more intoxicating than the sting of whiskey and Dean lost himself in his thirst for more.  _This_ , Dean thought, _this should be the start and end to every day._   He held his arms at his sides, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Castiel's hair and tug on it until it was standing in all directions.  Using only mouth and tongue, Dean fought for every ounce of Castiel's affection.

Eventually the kisses lost their urgency and became lazy and relaxed.  When that happened, Castiel pulled away.  “Now,” he licked his lips, tasting the residue of soap from Dean's skin, “for taking what you wanted without permission.”  Castiel pointed at the wall beside them.  “Get in position.”

Castiel guided Dean until he was bent at the waist and properly braced for their next activity.  He caught sight of movement in Dean's hips and let his eyes linger to investigate.  A thick curve of flesh twitched against the cloth pants, the man already half-hard before they had even gotten started.

Castiel rewarded his ass with a quick slap of approval, “Good boy.”

Time passed slowly as Dean anticipated the next hit.  He waited, holding himself rigidly as his patience wore thin.

_What is Cas waiting for?_

Dean wanted this.  He needed this as well as kisses, and if Castiel didn't give it to him and he couldn't take it for himself, what was Dean to do?

He thought about lifting his head to see what was the matter.  _No_ , Dean stopped himself.  He knew better than that.

Dean tried to think as he held himself awkwardly against the wall.  He wasn't alone.  Castiel was beside him; he could hear him breathing evenly through his nose.  His position felt right.  Both hands and both feet firmly planted in the places Castiel had directed them.  Lengthening his spine, Dean made his back as flat as it could be.

He couldn't figure this one out.  Was it a game?  A lesson in patience?  Was the punishment in the waiting?

Dean kept his eyes to the floor, fastened to the place where the baseboard met the hardwood.

Starting from Dean's fingers, Castiel swept his hands over his body.  They dragged along his sides and down his legs, as Castiel praised him for the pose.  “What beautiful lines,” he cooed.  “Just like that.”  His fingers wrapped around Dean's ankles.

Dean doesn't think that anyone has ever touched him there before.  It was a strange thought and it probably shouldn't have been arousing.  But as Castiel's fingers traced the knob of his ankle, he couldn't help but notice the way blood rushed to his groin.

A pleased sound from Castiel let Dean know that he had detected it as well.  And the knowledge that Castiel was watching him so closely made him even harder.

Castiel smiled to himself as he brushed the pad of his finger over the Dean's skin.  In a crouch, he followed the line of coarse hair where leg became foot and listened as Dean's breathing lost it's rhythm.

“Please, sir.”  Dean's voice broke as if he had been begging for hours.

Castiel rose from the floor and placed a hand to Dean's hip.  “For what are you being punished?”

_For wanting to kick your brother into next Tuesday._   “For, um.”  Dean fought to find the words.  It wasn't his mood that garnered punishment, it was the kiss.

Castiel's grip tightened, reminding him the question remained unanswered.

“For,”  _Christ, how had Cas put it?_   “For doing what I wanted without permission.”

“Good.”  Castiel punctuated his praise with a light smack to Dean's bottom.

_The fuck?_ These hits were barely enough to register, compared to last time.  Dean huffed in frustration and curled his toes into the floor. His nails digging into the hardwood hurt more than Castiel's palm today.

“Sir,” he pressed his hip further into Castiel's hand.  “Please.”

The next swat had a little more energy behind it and Dean tried again.

“Please.”

A sweet sting of palm to flesh drew a sigh of relief past Dean's lips.  His eyes sank heavy and he breathed his request again, “please.”

Castiel spanked him harder, his hand coming down on Dean's ass again and again in quick succession.

Dean groaned out loud whenever it seemed like Castiel was going to let up.  “More,” Dean cried out.  “Harder.”

Castiel gave it to him as he asked for it.  “This is what you want.”

It wasn't a question but Dean answered all the same.  “Yes, sir. Please, sir.”  Dean wanted to squirm, to feel a brush of cotton against his now prominent erection.  He resisted temptation, but only just.  In an effort to remain still, Dean clenched his jaw and locked his knees.

His molars ground into each other as every smack of Castiel's hand surged through him.

By the time Castiel was counting down from ten, Dean was shaking.  His muscles spasmed from being held in sustained tension and his knees buckled.

Anticipating Dean's collapse, Castiel caught him easily.  He eased them both onto the floor and knelt Dean between his legs.

Still trembling, Dean looked away.  His cock throbbed painfully as it strained up toward the elastic waistband.  He brought his hand to it satisfying it's crave for friction, a shadow of embarrassment behind his eyes.

Castiel wiped sweat from Dean's brow and gave a small nod, “It's OK.” He leaned back against the couch, his hands delicately framing Dean's thighs. Dean was beautiful just like this. It was clear that he was mindfully present in this moment and it brought delight to Castiel.

A whine crackled within Dean's throat as his fingers released the button of his pants.  The swollen head of his length bounced free of the fabric, already glistening with precum.

Keeping his eyes trained on Dean's face, Castiel gave a small gesture of encouragement, permission to continue.  It was true that they had no section for sexual activity in their contract. Even so, Castiel felt orgasm denial was out of the question.  Unless Dean explicitly asked for it, Castiel had no interest in entertaining that idea. Likewise, he thought that sending Dean to handle his erection on his own would give the impression that this was something shameful.  And wouldn't that be more damaging than allowing his sub to masturbate after a spanking?

Dean's hand moved over his dick with a squeeze and a pull.  He groaned, dropping his chin to his chest and set his wrist to a gentle pace.  Dean found it hard to meet Castiel's gaze as he pumped his fist around his shaft.  There was no precedent for what was happening.  At any time Dean felt he could be told to stop – and he knew he would.  The thought of the control he would give to his Dom made his hips stutter.

Castiel watched on in awe as Dean's shoulder rolled in time with his gasps.  His palms itched at Dean's sides with the desire to help him along, but he ignored it, instead focusing on each hitch of the man's breath.

Dean could feel the brush of Castiel's fingertips through his pants, little circles of pressure bumping along his leg as the muscles flexed with his gyrations.  His skin sprouted goose-flesh, starting at the points of Castiel's touch and rippling over his entire body.

Dean rocked forward as he thrust and his free hand found Castiel to keep from topping over.  He paused, looking down at his Dom, wondering if this physical contact was allowed.

Castiel placed his hand over Dean's at his shoulder, holding it there.

The hand at Dean's cock picked up it's pace, wet with precum but not enough to make it an easy slide.  It had been a long time since Dean had touched himself without the aid of lubricant and he turned away from Castiel to spit into his palm.  He flushed pink across the bridge of his nose as he took hold of his dick once more.

So calm.  How could Castiel be so friggen calm while Dean jacked off between his legs?

He wasn't.  Not really.

Castiel's ribs ached with the thunderous drum of his heart.  He watched Dean's face with rapt attention as his sub moved in front of him.  If he had allowed himself to look below, he knew he'd be cataloging every flick and twist of Dean's wrist. He wanted give Dean the pleasure he was giving himself.  Dean knew his own body so well.  He could have probably gotten himself off in a few quick motions.  Judging by the wet sound of it, Castiel imagined the man wasn't far from gone.

With steady focus, Castiel kept his observations as clinical as possible.  He tamped down his own arousal so that the temptation of touching Dean himself was easier to manage.

Dean changed pace from long pulls to short strokes, concentrating on the bundle of nerves around the crown of the head.  The mound of red pushed in and out through the O of his fingers, faster as he felt the build of orgasm.

“Good boy.”  Castiel's voice was sin.

Dean gasped and shuddered as he came, his hand seizing Castiel's shoulder.  He watched his hand milk ropes of white from his dick until it hurt to continue. For a moment, he just stared at his cock.  It twitched in his loose grip, a line of semen drooling from the tip.

When he had caught his breath, Dean lifted his eyes to Castiel and froze.

Castiel's face was pinched together in a displeased look, his eyes shut tight.  A few globs of spunk clung to his eyebrow, nose, and chin.  He raised the lid of one eye cautiously.  The other stayed closed, the eyelid weighted with a dollop of Dean's release.

Dean stared into the lone blue eye and wet his lips.  Before he could stop himself, Dean was cradling Castiel's head in his hands and licking his face.

His tongue dragged across Castiel's stubble and he sucked a patch where his come was already starting to dry.  Satisfied Castiel's chin and jaw line were sufficiently clean, Dean worked his mouth upward.

He nipped at Castiel's nose before his tongue swept up the pearl hanging from it, then gave attention to each of his cheekbones, just because they were there.

Delicately and carefully, Dean cleaned around Castiel's eyes.  He did his best to clear away every last drop. It was messy business, but it had it's rewards.  Particularly in the funny little sounds made in Castiel's throat as he reacted to the tongue bath.

Dean licked and sucked until there was no more to clean.  Then, he rested his head on Castiel's chest, utterly spent.  Without the distraction of his arousal, Dean was suddenly aware of the aching of his limbs and the tenderness of his rump.  He let out a huff of discomfort.

“How are you?”  Castiel used his sleeve to wipe Dean's slobber from his face.

With a whimper, Dean admitted, “My ass hurts.”

A chuckle bubbled up from Castiel's chest.  Dean could be so blunt when he wanted to be, and Cas wouldn't want him any other way.

“What say I take care of that ass and then I'll warm up a piece of pie?”

Dean nodded and crawled from Castiel's lap to the couch.  He tucked his flaccid member into his pants and laid face down on the cushions.  The sound of Castiel moving around the room could have lulled him to sleep, but Dean didn't want to miss what was next.  Recalling the strength of Castiel's hands as they kneaded his muscles, Dean looked forward to the massage.  His Dom had magic fingers.

Castiel gathered the medicinal cream and a blanket, prepared to strip Dean of his sweaty clothes and cover his rear with the salve.

“Too cold,” Dean protested when he felt Cas's fingers on the waistband of his pants.

“You'll feel better without-”

“Please.”  Dean was so tired he really didn't want to beg.

Castiel's lips turned up in a small smile.  Dean had figured it out.  All he had to do was say 'please' and Castiel was at his mercy.

He supposed it didn't matter so much if the man remained clothed.  Applying the cream was a bit challenging, but he got Dean good and slathered all the same.

\--

After the cream had been returned to his bag, Castiel asked, “Are you awake?”  He was fairly sure the answer was 'yes'.

Dean was seconds from sleep but lifted his hand in a thumbs-up and gave a weak grunt.  His head rested on a pillow, arm dangling off the couch and onto the floor.

“The pie is warm.”

His green eyes blinked open and he croaked, “I'm up.”  Despite his announcement, Dean made no outward effort to move.

“I can't feed you if you're lying down.”

Dean was gaining his strength back and wanted to counter, “Yes, you can!”  But he decided not to.  Instead, he slid down the couch on his belly.  Dropping off the seat, Dean's knees landed on something soft.  A thick bundle of blankets had been placed there for his comfort.

Dean carefully turned and stretched, noting how his ass wasn't as sensitive as he had expected.

Castiel sat beside him with a bowl and a spoon.  Wisps of steam carried the scent of apples in the air.  Dean's stomach growled in response.

Castiel set forth to tease Dean with dessert, incorporating another item from his list of preferences into their recreation.  Castiel curled his thumb over the edge as he held the bowl on his lap.  Within the bowl, a scoop of vanilla ice cream melted over a thick slice of hot pie.

Dean knelt with feigned patience, watching Castiel's thumb with jealousy as it dipped into the bowl.  Castiel carded his free hand through Dean's hair and Dean brought his face closer, letting the moist heat fill his nose and warm his face.  It smelled even better than the night before, the ingredients having had time to get acquainted.  His mouth watered imagining the new depths of flavor.

With the tiniest smirk, Castiel swirled his thumb around the dessert, then lifted it to Dean's lips.

Dean opened his mouth without hesitation, sucking the sweet cream from Castiel's finger.  He felt Castiel shift in his seat and sucked harder, rolling his tongue around the knuckle.

Castiel pulled his hand back, Dean's mouth releasing it with a pop.

“Spoon, hand, or dish,” Castiel said blankly, trying to conceal his excitement.

“Hand.”  Dean's answer came quickly, transfixed on the sight of Castiel's spit slick thumb.

Castiel used three fingers as he tried to fish out a gooey, sloppy wedge of apple.  “This will be rather untidy,” Castiel mused with a hint of laughter.

Dean lifted his gaze with wide-eyed adoration.  It was rare to see Castiel so playful.  Even in the times they called 'play', Castiel rarely gave into amusement or laughter.  To think that he had any part in Castiel's fun sent a happy buzz under Dean's skin.

The apple dropped from Castiel's fingers when he tried to lift it from the bowl.

_Slippery little fucker_ , Dean thought.

Castiel tried again, turning his hand so that the chunk of fruit fell into his palm.  He held his hand just out of Dean's reach so he was leaning into Castiel's legs in order to get to his treat.

Dean closed his mouth around the apple and let it roll on his tongue as he lapped up the golden filling from Castiel's palm.  His tongue dipped between Castiel's fingers where the sweet gel had gathered.

“Must taste good.”  Castiel brought his hand to Dean's face, pulling him in for a kiss and a sample.  “Mmm,” he hummed against Dean's lips.  “So good for me.”

He peeled his hand from Dean's face, leaving a sticky print around his ear.  Dean wrinkled his nose as the residue prickled his skin.  He didn't have time to think much of it as Castiel was holding out his palm again.

Castiel scooped out another piece of apple, this time bringing out some ice cream with it.  The melting pool of vanilla threatened to drip all over them both.  He wondered if his sub was hungry enough to-.

Dean ducked in, slurping noisily as he drank the cream from the cup of Cas's hand.  When Dean pulled back for air, his mouth was a wreck of milky pie filling.

With a sigh, Castiel licked those lips clean, his hand leaving an even bigger mess as he held Dean in place at his neck.

A smear of ice cream and syrup drying on his skin, Dean raised his eyebrow, “Sir?”

“Yes, my pet?”  Castiel's recently clean fingers played in the bowl like a pallet of finger-paint.

“I can eat with a spoon, if that's what you want.”  Dean wondered what point Castiel was trying to make.  Was this revenge for the facial?  Punishment for his perpetual lack of table manners?  Or could it really be all in fun?

Castiel's face broke into a gummy smile as he painted a stripe of goo from Dean's forehead to the tip of his nose.  “I find I am enjoying this more than I anticipated.”  Castiel left sticky hand prints on Dean's cheeks as he licked the man's forehead clean.

“Oh.”  Dean leaned into Cas as his tongue continued over his chin and neck.  Dean felt Castiel tugging at the buttons of his pajama top until it hung loose and open. He shrugged it off without a thought.

Castiel placed a bit of apple on Dean's tongue and returned his own mouth to the man's neck.  “Can you lie down for me?”  Cas asked as he nibbled gently on Dean's throat.  His hands roamed down Dean's chest, but there was only so much he could explore with his sub still in position on the floor.

“Yes, sir,” came Dean's breathless response.

Castiel helped him onto the sofa and laid him out, abandoning the bowl of soupy dessert on the end table.

\--

Sticky, sweet, warm.  Dean's lips tasted like hot apples and cinnamon.  Castiel licked into his mouth, moaning his claim.  He laid over him, his legs straddling one of Dean's.  Feeling his sub warm and pliant beneath him, Castiel knew he'd done well.  “Apples are your favorite, huh?”

“Yes,” Dean answered against his kiss, arching his back in the search for friction.  “Yes, sir.”  His hands hovered at the sides of Castiel's face.  “Want to touch you. Please, sir.”

“You may.”

Castiel barely finished his two-syllable response before Dean was clawing at Castiel's hair.  He pulled Cas closer until their kiss was a mess of teeth and tongues. “Fuck, Ca-ahh.”  A roll of hips sent a surge like lightning from his dick to his toes.  “Shit.”  He could feel his cock growing hard again.

“Shh...”  Castiel pet Dean's cheek, looking down at him as they rutted against each other.  Castiel felt Dean's hips bucking up, felt the rub of his length on his thigh.  Each of Dean's gasps drew out from Castiel a matching groan.  Summoning every ounce of his self-control, Cas did not give into the bump and grind.

Telling Dean to stay quiet was as much an exercise in restraint and denial for Castiel as it was for his sub.  Dean continued to beg with tiny whimpers of desperation.  The sound of Dean's frenzy stoked the fire in Castiel's core.

“If you can't stay quiet I'm going to have to find another thing to do with that mouth.”  His mouth turned up in one corner, “Do you need help being quiet?”

Cas was asking permission to gag him, but Dean's eyes dropped to his Dom's stiff cock hungrily.

With a shake of his head, Castiel reminded Dean of their boundary.

Dean put on his best set of puppy-dog eyes.  “Please, sir.”

Cas knew Dean wanted to revise the contract and agreed to look it over during downtime, because yes they had not made it half-way through the month, but even Castiel would have liked the freedom to worship Dean's body in whatever way he chose.

Cas worshipped Dean anyway.  He took Dean's hands from his hair and brought them to his lips, giving individual attention to each knuckle and fingertip.  Couldn't get enough of Dean's rough, weather-beaten skin, the calluses that advertised years of hard work and experience.

He moved up Dean's arm, licking at the ticklish area inside the elbow and up the underside of his arm.

As he rounded the shoulder and travelled to Dean's chest, Castiel adored the wide expanse of muscle.

He counted freckles and scars, taking a breath to cover each inch of Dean from his crown to his soles with kisses.  Castiel saturated his body as though tenderness could penetrate Dean's shell.  That his spirit might understand that he was worthy, cherished, and cared for.

Dean laughed at first, feeling a bit ridiculous that Cas would spend so much time just kissing him.  He wanted to tell Cas that he's not some delicate thing, he's not going to break.  But as he started paying closer attention to the hands framing his body and the whispers that passed over Castiel's lips, he wondered if he'd been lying to himself.

His laughter silenced and he was aware only of Castiel hovering above him.  Warmth trading bodies, Cas tasted his skin as if somehow the pie spice had flavored more than just Dean's tongue.

His Dom whispered promises of protection and words of ownership along his ribs – and it was enough for Dean to forget everything but that moment.  Soft puffs of air crossed his chest with each syllable.  Beautiful.  Mine.  Keep you.  Cas didn't use words like forever or always, but Dean imagined they were implied.  The weight of it was overwhelming and he could not longer be sure that he wasn't coming undone at the seams.

Castiel's attention to the center of his chest, the space beneath which his physical heart resides, was wonderful and intimate and altogether too much.  Dean felt the prick of tears in his eyes and squeezed them shut before Cas would see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Spanking, aftercare, hand-feeding, food play, masturbation, cum shot/ facial


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes from a nightmare and can't shake the residual outrage at dream-Castiel's indifference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The first half of this chapter is pretty rough, but the boys have got fluff and smut on the horizon.
> 
> Warnings at the end.
> 
> If you're wondering about a chapter being late, please look to my tumblr: [ijustfriggen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ijustfriggen).

Somewhere between kissing Dean's stomach and nibbling on his hipbones, Castiel noticed that Dean had fallen asleep. Pressing a few more kisses onto his sub's forehead, Castiel thanked him for his submission and promised to be there when he woke. He stroked Dean's face as he watched him lie in a moment of peace. There was something so beautiful in the way Dean's features relaxed, Castiel wished his partner would always be as happy as he looked. Castiel made sure his limbs were arranged comfortably and tucked a blanket around him. Then, it was time to start dinner. 

Castiel hummed to himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Surely Dean would be hungry after his nap, so Castiel wanted to have something warm and ready. He saw they were running dangerously low on groceries and though he hated to leave Dean alone while he slept, Castiel had half a mind to run out to the bodega nearby for a few things. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found an unopened box of fettuccine in the pantry and half of a bag of frozen vegetables in the freezer. There wasn't a tomato in sight, so Castiel would make due with garlic and oil. Sunday, he panned to introduce Dean to the wonderful world of wholesale shopping. He placed a call to Gabriel and Kali to see if they needed anything as well.

In the living room, Dean's tranquil sleep turned into a nightmare. He tossed and turned with his dream, curt laughter and facetious praise ringing in his ears. Everything was shrouded in a thick, gray fog and Dean fought to decipher where he was and what was happening. His breath came quickly and his heart pounded in his chest. The voices were familiar, but it felt like a long time had passed before he could place them. He recognized Alistair first, his words like degradation slithering up his spine and lingering about his shoulders. Then there was Michael whose taunts cut with the dullness of a rusted blade, “Winchester? Never heard of you.” 

The fog shifted and Dean could see the scene more clearly. It was the main theatre of Alistair's club and the house was packed. Dean knelt centerstage as Alistair and Michael circled him like vultures too long without a meal. Panic set in. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be here. 

Dean whipped his head from side to side, scanning the audience for Castiel. But when he laid eyes on the man in the trench coat, there was no comfort to be found. Castiel approached the stage and his blue eyes held nothing but bored amusement. The scene continued as Alistair and Michael endeavored to strip Dean of what little self-worth he clung to. All the while, Castiel watched without comment.

Dean never once tried to wake himself up, because it felt too real to have been a dream.

As sleep faded, however, the dream slipped away from him and he woke feeling far from rested. Dean couldn't recall what had haunted him during his sleep but it left behind a prickly shadow that radiated from the pit of his stomach. Trying to rid himself of the feeling before it settled into his bones, Dean stretched and cracked his joints. 

He moved like a vessel for two warring entities, one of the dark and the other without form. With a shake of his head, Dean forced himself to wake up.

Castiel's movements in the kitchen were far from quiet and the smell of garlic hung heavy in the apartment. Dean ventured to the breakfast counter to see if there was something he could do to help, to keep busy. 

Dean found Cas pushing around mixed vegetables with a plastic spatula, his head tilted to the side at an extreme angle. It was strange, the bubbling resentment he felt when he watched Castiel cook at his stove.

“You are insufferable.” Dean heard him saying into a pot. “If Dean... I will most certainly not,” He noticed the cellphone later, tucked between Castiel's cheek and shoulder. There was a long pause before Castiel hung up the phone without so much as a good-bye. 

Seeing the tightness in Castiel's back, Dean stepped up behind him and smoothed his hands across his shoulders. His touch was rough and Dean told himself that the pressure was good to ease Cas's tension. 

“That was Michael, wasn't it?” Dean dug into the hard muscle of Castiel's traps with his thumbs. Even as his hands squeezed and prodded, a part of him softened, wanting to apologize for coming between them. Inviting Michael was supposed to have brought the family together, not cause any bad-blood among the brothers. “I'm-.”

“It was Gabriel,” Castiel corrected him, cutting off Dean's next sentence. “Spent the last twenty minutes complaining that Kali will eat nothing but bananas and pudding. He's not man enough to make his own dinner, so he's enlisted us – well, me – to feed him for the foreseeable future.”

_Of course it wasn't Michael_ , realization crashed over Dean. Why would Castiel ever mention his name to Michael? 

Dean's lip lifted in the corner like a snarl and his rolling anger threatened to boil over. He felt the desire to shut down, to block all this out and go back to the place of not caring. It was simpler back then. He could kneel on a stage will full knowledge that his Dom and their patrons did not give a shit about the man under the blindfold, were only there for the show. To actually believe Castiel could care about him left Dean with more confusion than it was worth.

“You invited Gabe to dinner?” He dropped his hands from Castiel's shoulders. “Here?” Dean's eyes darted around the apartment looking for anything that would give away his taste for crawling around like a pet and getting spanked into submission. 

Of course, there was none. And what did they use, really? A bowl of pie, a tube of muscle cream, and some pillows. These were hardly red flag items in any household. Besides, as Dean surveyed the room, he saw that Castiel had put away the cream and cleared the dessert dish. And the pillows he used for kneeling were propped on chairs as accents like they would be in any furniture show room. Having Gabriel for dinner, Dean admitted, would be harmless.

Dean ran his hand through his hair, grimacing when he found it hard and sticky. “I need a shower,” he grumbled, still caught up in his own thoughts. It had been a long time since he had to entertain someone other than family. _Not that Cas is family._ The thought surprised and stung. Dean wondered where it came from, wondered why he was consumed by such bitterness. 

He thought he could remember a time, not long ago, when he had considered what it would be like building a life with Cas. At the moment, it no longer seemed as important. 

Castiel was saying something as he left the room, but Dean didn't hear. He was thinking of Gabriel, then Kali and Sam, and finally Michael. The sound of Michael's voice echoed in Dean's ears, bringing renewed attention to the pit in his stomach. Dean wanted to hate him, he really did. But the more Dean thought about it, the more Dean realized that it was never Michael he was upset with. 

In the bathroom, Dean found his dirty clothes in a pile near the sink. He fished his phone out of his jeans and without hesitation thumbed a text to Sam.

> I'm seeing someone. Not sure how serious it is, but... Yeah. Whatever.

There was no joy or excitement in the announcement. It was merely a means to an end; Dean wouldn't be the one keeping their relationship a secret.

Dean got a response almost immediately.

> That's cool, man. I know you'll take good care of them.

With little satisfaction, Dean tossed his phone back to the clothes pile and turned on the water.

Dean had assumed telling Sam about Castiel would help to ease his frustration, but it only got worse. The shadowed part of himself reared it's ugly head. Now Castiel had no excuse not to tell Michael about their relationship and Dean wanted to be present when it happened. His reasoning was a childish tit for tat, but Dean was blinded by indignation. 

The shower only gave Dean more time to stew in his own poison. He thought about all of the things Castiel had said so tenderly as they laid on the couch. He convinced himself that none of it could be true if Cas wouldn't tell the one person who supposedly mattered most in the world that he even existed. The darkness inside pulsed and grew.

When he returned to the kitchen, Castiel was waiting. He had noticed Dean's lack of attention, especially as Dean got ready for a houseguest that had never been invited in the first place. Gabriel was not coming over, but Dean seemed to have selective hearing. 

There was a cushion on the tile floor beside Castiel's feet and long pieces of fabric in his fist. His expression was stern as he pointed to the pillow and told him to kneel. 

Dean was so worked up after his shower that he wanted to yell at Cas: _You friggen' kneel for once!_ But there was a hardness in Dean that prevented him from acting out, that didn't want Castiel to see him lose his shit. Not like that. 

Dressed for dinner in jeans and a band tee, Dean brought himself to the spot and did as Cas said. 

He tried to act like he did at the club, mindlessly following direction, but Dean found it impossible to clear his thoughts. The club was easy, compared to this. There were no emotions involved on stage, but at Castiel's feet it seemed like that's all there was.

The sound of Castiel snapping at his ear brought him back just long enough to hear Cas explain how he was using ties to restrain Dean's arms behind his back and another tie to blindfold him. He worked deliberately, binding Dean in such a way that the fabric braided around his forearms and secured at his wrists.

“Where are you?” Castiel kept asking as he came around Dean's front, seeing his sub's awareness drift in and out of the present. There was fear and confusion in Castiel's questions as he wondered what switch had flipped to create this change in Dean. “Where are you going?”

Dean couldn't answer his questions both because he didn't know and didn't hear. 

Instead, he scoffed as Castiel secured the blindfold behind his head. The formless part of Dean struggled through the shadow, helpless to stop him. 

“What will your brother think, when he walks in and sees us like this? Does he know the twisted shit you're into? Will he fly back home in disgust? What if he wants to join?” 

These were the types of things the Doms at the club would say to him as they scened for the crowd. Dean had hardened himself against such questions through his months of employment, but Castiel hadn't seen them coming. Darkness rushed in like high tide, thrilled at having caught Castiel unprepared.

His snark was met with a swift smack across his cheek. It stung, but it wasn't enough to feel like he was really in trouble and Dean laughed. He laughed at himself for letting Castiel crawl under his skin and rearrange his pieces with his lies. At allowing himself to believe that it was safe to lower his shield. 

Submitting to Castiel was nothing like being on stage and the raw vulnerability of it struck Dean harder than any slap of a hand. He wasn't getting paid for this. He made this choice to kneel because he wanted it. Every moment he willingly subjected himself to this confirmed his sick need to be controlled. Dean knew of only one word for that. _Pathetic._

Castiel stood back and watched as Dean doubled over with mirthless laughter. This was just another example of what he couldn't understand about Dean. After punishment he seemed fine. They had played and touched and kissed. Castiel had admitted things to him that he had never felt for anyone before. He thought that they were reaching a new level of intimacy and hadn't been prepared for it to dissolve into this. It was almost as if the aftercare made Dean worse and even just considering that scared Castiel. 

“Dean,” Castiel said as firm as his shaken resolve would allow. He ignored the biting echo of the questions, knowing they were only used to get a rise out of him. Though he had not anticipated such a reaction from Dean, Castiel was no stranger to the power-struggle of Dominant and submissive. “Would you have me bind and gag you for the rest of the evening?” 

“Do or don't do whatever you want, Master. You're the Dom; or don't you remember?” His chest burned as he held back further remark and he laughed once more. 

Castiel felt the urge to recoil as Dean lashed out with forked tongue. He didn't want to gag him. He wanted to know what was going through Dean's mind that would cause him to react like this. Instead of backing down, Cas stood himself tall.

“I remember,” Castiel said, grabbing Dean roughly by the back of his neck. He pulled him to the side until Dean's cheek was pressed against his hip. Tilting Dean's head back with a tug on his hair, Castiel countered, “Do you?”

Straining against Cas's hold, Dean answered, “I remember.” The brace of Castiel's hand and hip helped Dean feel some sense of security, but the darkness refused to recede. 

Dean hadn't called him Sir since before falling asleep and Castiel pinched the nerve at Dean's shoulder causing him to wince, “No, I don't think you do.” Castiel dug his fingers harder into the nerve, sending a shot of electricity up Dean's neck and behind his arm. 

Dean tried to shrink away, but Castiel held him in place. He looked down at Dean and tried to imagine why it was so easy for him to accept pain in place of comfort. “What is my name?” Castiel spoke with authority to cover up his uncertainty.

“Cas,” Dean answered in defiance and the fingers twisted at his shoulder. The pain was good, the pain kept him present. Dean could feel the dark lose purchase under Castiel's hand and egged him on for more. “Cas,” he repeated as the question came a second time. He was scared to answer correctly, for fear that the pain would leave and he would be lost in his thoughts again. 

Castiel's eyes shone as he added a pinch to the corresponding nerve on the other side of Dean's neck. He blinked back tears as Dean curled in on himself. “You will address me as Castiel or Sir. Is that understood?” 

Dean bit down hard on his cheek and did not give an answer. With pain coursing down his arms, Dean could think clearly. He knew he didn't want to give into the shadow, didn't want to hurt Castiel. He wanted to be something good, someone that could take care of his partner like Sam said he would. For the first time Dean considered that maybe there were reasons that he didn't know of, reasons why Castiel would keep their relationship a secret from Michael. Reluctantly, Dean knew that Castiel deserved a chance to explain himself. What he didn't know was how to give voice to his need. 

Castiel removed his hands from Dean's shoulders and the two entered a stand-off: Dean refusing to play by the rules and Castiel too hesitant to offer punishment or comfort. 

Anxious by the loss of Castiel's touch, Dean chewed harder at the inside of his mouth and brought his hands together to pinch the nerve between his thumb and forefinger. He grimaced and breathed heavily as he fought for lucidity.

Castiel took a step away and leaned back on the fridge. Dean was hurting and Cas watched, unable to discern whether he was causing harm or healing.

When the food had long since gone cold and neither was sure just how much time had passed, Castiel decided he had had enough. 

Defeated, he sank to the floor with his head in his hands. “Kansas.” His voice cracked as if it was unsure how to form the word.

Hearing Castiel use his safeword was like a knife to the chest and it worked better than any physical pain to snap Dean out of his own head. With swift movements, Dean easily untied the slipknot at his wrists and pulled the blindfold down. He saw the man in front of him not as an enemy or a challenge, but a broken ally. 

“Cas?” Dean ignored the chafing on his wrists and crawled forward to his Dom. Reaching out for him, Dean spoke gently, “Sir?” 

“Don't touch me,” Castiel croaked, pushing himself onto his feet. His face was blotched red and he turned from the kitchen without so much as a backward glance. “Eat something before bed,” his voice was worn as he shrugged on his coat and stepped out of the apartment. He wasn't planning to be gone for long; he just needed some distance.

Shuffling to the bottom of the stairwell in his socks, Castiel felt his phone buzz in his pants' pocket. His first thought was of Dean and he scrambled to answer it. But when he saw the caller ID, Cas took a second to wipe his eyes and clear his throat. “Hello, Michael. Is everything all right?”

“You tell me. I got a call today, got me to thinking maybe you need someone to talk to.”

“Really?” Castiel held the phone away from his face as he sniffed. “What about?” Michael and Castiel checked in with each other regularly throughout the week, but usually through texts. While a telephone call from Michael wasn't unheard of, Castiel hadn't been expecting one until his birthday. 

“Castiel, are you happy?” Michael's question came from a place of genuine concern for his brother.

“I don't know.” Castiel answered honestly, sitting on one of the bottom-most steps. “I thought so, but it has been a long day. Dean is...”

“If the end to that sentence is anything less than 'wonderful', get rid of him.” Castiel could hear the small smile in Michael's voice, “You deserve a better boyfriend than that.”

Castiel needed a moment to soak that in, “You know?” Michael had never been particularly interested in Castiel's romantic life; to hear him speak so casually about it now was encouraging. 

“I knew back when you were fawning over his taste in music and his car. You've never been into that stuff before him. It was clear he was more than a friend, or at least could be.”

Castiel caught himself smiling and remembered the present situation. He sighed as the smile fell from his face, “I think I messed up. He's been mad at me all day.”

“He probably just woke up on the wrong side of your bed.” 

Castiel groaned. “It's not like that, thank you. And no.” He leaned forward until his forehead rested on his knees, “No. He was fine this morning. Things were good. He came home from work and then... I don't know what I did and I don't know how to make it better.”

“Cas.”

The shortened version of his name caught him off-guard. “Michael, when have you ever called me Cas?”

“It's what Dean calls you,” he said matter-of-fact. 

“Yes, but how-” Castiel guessed Michael's next sentence before it was spoken.

“It was Dean who called me today, Castiel.”

“He what?” _Why? How?_

“He introduced himself and I may have told him that I never heard of him.” Michael chuckled at his own cleverness. “Cocky, sonofabitch, that one.”

“You what?” Castiel looked up the narrow stairwell and his heart sank. Dean knew that Castiel kept in close contact with Michael, a few times sitting with him as they texted. Castiel even thought that he had explicitly told Dean that he was looking forward to telling Michael about their new level of commitment. 

Only a few hours ago, Castiel had practically told Dean that he was falling for him and the entire time, Dean probably thought it was a lie. After the way Castiel had emphasized the place of honesty in their relationship, Castiel could start to see Dean's perspective and the pieces of the day began to fall into place. “You shouldn't have done that.”

“Hey, life is only 10% circumstance; the other 90% is how you choose to respond,” Michael said defensively. “If he's all pissy because I pretended you never told me about your twinkle-bear or whatever you call it, that's on him.”

“Michael, I have to go.” Castiel took the stairs by two, pulling on the railing for momentum.

“Come on, Cassie. Relax a little.”

“Goodnight, Michael.” Castiel hung up the phone and tried the doorknob. 

He slipped in quietly and locked the door behind him, leaving the key in the lock as Dean tended to do on the weekends. Hoping to find Dean in the kitchen reheating dinner, Castiel set his coat on the hook. 

“Dean?”

Castiel did find Dean in the kitchen, but he hadn't gotten himself up from the floor. It didn't look like he had moved from the spot where Cas had left him. “I spoke to Michael,” Castiel said, sitting back on his heels in a squat. 

With his head hung low, there was a sadness in Dean's expression that confirmed Castiel's suspicions. “Bout time,” Dean huffed, rubbing at the skin around his wrists. He still found comfort in the pain, but it was no longer necessary. The dark part of him had been satisfied by seeing Cas break before he did, but with the shadow gone, it no longer felt like a victory.

Castiel stilled his hands, “No. I spoke to Michael about you since the first night we met. He doesn't know... everything, but he does know how important you are to me.”

“So he's a dick,” Dean said without looking up from their hands. 

Nodding, Castiel agreed.

“Say it.”

“Michael is a dick,” the vulgarity sounded foreign on Castiel's tongue, but it still brought Dean a sense of relief.

“A great big bag of dicks,” Dean amended. 

“Michael is a great big bag of dicks.” Castiel watched as a trace of a smile flitted past Dean's mouth. It wasn't enough to erase the last hour, but it was a start. “I'm sorry I hurt you.” He squeezed Dean's hands in his and his stomach rose into his throat. “Do you remember what I told you? What I said before you fell asleep?”

Dean shrugged, but he remembered. He didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't sure what those words meant in the light of day, beyond the haze of orgasm and arousal. More so, he needed time to forget the lie that brought on the darkness.

Castiel nodded, understanding that Dean needed his space. As much as it hurt to see Dean retreat into himself, Castiel wouldn't demand more than Dean was willing to give. Especially not now that he's seen what happened when he did.

They ate dinner in an uneasy silence; Dean opted to sit at the counter with Cas and feed himself. Then the pair settled on the couch where the silence continued. 

Dean watched Three Stooges. His eyes remained glued to the television while Castiel surfed the internet on his tablet. Sporadic bursts of Dean's forced laughter highlighted the lingering tension of the room.

In search for guidance, Castiel turned to his list of reliable websites written by professional and real life Dominants. His favorite was a pair of blogs written by a married couple, the husband Dominant and the wife submissive. 

He read through their latest entries before sending them each an email. Castiel wrote about his and Dean's relationship, what had transpired thus far, and asked if they thought his leniency was creating a disturbance in the dynamic between him and Dean. 

The couple answered Castiel's emails together, each writing a small paragraph extending their best wishes and offering advice from their experience. Both of their responses stressed that leniency _was_ an issue. To them it seemed that Castiel's _inconsistency, hesitation,_ and _reluctance to follow the contract_ were causing confusion for Dean. They urged Castiel to reevaluate the contract he and Dean had written, make the necessary changes, and stick to it.

After reading their reply, Castiel looked over at Dean. Their relationship was suffering and Castiel acknowledged that, in part, it was due to the fact that their contract was wrought with ambiguity. 

Castiel typed quickly in the hope to catch them before they logged out for the night. When he shared his thoughts that he wanted to get rid of the contract altogether, it was the submissive who told him 'no'. _Strict adherence to what is written_ and _revisions_ , she insisted, were crucial to the sub's trust in their Dom. 

He didn't want to rewrite their contract, he wanted to turn back the clock and rewrite the evening. Knowing that was impossible, he sought to at least ease the uncertainty between them. 

Reaching out with his toes, Castiel poked Dean's thigh. Dean turned to him with a sad smile, neither one able to forget the scene from the kitchen. 

“Lay with me.” Castiel's instruction was soft, as if he was the one asking permission, and Dean's compliance came cautious and eager at the same time. 

The weight of Dean between his legs calmed his nerves. The rise and fall of their breaths synced as they found each other once more. 

With Dean's head resting on his chest, Castiel put down the tablet and gave him his undivided attention. “What do you need? Tell me what you need and I will give it to you.”

Dean nuzzled himself deeper into Castiel's arms because what was on his mind felt far too cheesy to say aloud. He felt Castiel's lips graze the top of his head and lifted his eyes to Cas's. There was still something _off_ in the way Dean's stomach jumped as he stared into Castiel's blue eyes, but the feeling passed as Castiel's hands sneaked under his shirt and warmed his lower back.

“I-,” Castiel started a phrase he wasn't ready to say and bit his lip as he caught himself. 

Dean saw a blush rising from Castiel's neck to the tips of his ears. He couldn't be sure what it meant or what Castiel had stopped himself from saying, but it filled him with a warmth that he had almost forgotten. Dean recalled the promises spoken as Castiel had covered him with his hands and mouth. Dean wanted to reciprocate, let Castiel know that this relationship was more than one-sided. But he didn't know if words would be enough.

He brought his face closer until their noses touched and the declaration he had previously held close suddenly burst forth as the only truth Dean knew. “I need you.” 

He didn't know how it could be only a few weeks since they'd been introduced, but something clicked when they were together and Dean felt like Castiel was the only person who could understand. His eyes glistened as he watched for Castiel's reaction.

With another blush, Castiel brought their mouths together gently. He reached up to cradle Dean's face and placed slow kisses to his nose and forehead. “I'll take care of you,” he whispered into Dean's hair, holding him tightly around the middle. “You just need to talk to me.”

Dean nodded against his chest and accepted the kisses that peppered the top of his head. There was relief in saying those three words. Castiel hadn't rejected him or called him weak. And he wasn't disappointed that Castiel hadn't said it back. Dean felt safe again and he wrapped his legs around one of Castiel's. 

Cas's warm hands slipped under his shirt again and dragged blunt fingernails over his back. There was a temptation to purr, to retreat into the role of pet, but a stronger pull within Dean greedily kept this moment for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sub-drop, safe-wording


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel settle in for bed after a very long, emotional day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I am delighted at the positive response this story has gotten. Thank you for sticking with me. 
> 
> Short chapter. Not much happens, but I couldn't let the boys go to bed angry or upset with one another.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Casual conversation about shibari.

Dean groaned in irritation as he stretched on the empty pullout mattress. He was ready for bed, but a nagging ache in his bones told him sleep wouldn't come easy. Even dressed in pajamas, still warm from the dryer, and wrapped in his grandmother's old blanket, Dean struggled to get comfortable. 

He missed Cas. And not just in the – boyfriend's bedtime routine takes too long – way. 

With the intensity of the last week, Dean could hardly believe it had only been a week since they signed the contract. And it felt like a lifetime had passed since their first conversation at the bar.

Dean wanted to slow down, get to know his friend again. He hoped that Castiel would want that too.

Pulling the blanket up to his chin, Dean rolled onto his side. When he first agreed to the contract, Dean didn't realize that he would have such a hard time submitting to Castiel. He had jumped in, head first, and really thought he had a handle on the whole thing. He thought the club had given him enough experience to navigate a real D/s relationship. But scene after scene, Dean's emotions became twisted and inevitably overwhelmed him. 

Still, Castiel wanted him, believed in him. And Dean wanted Castiel.

Playing the Dominant was certainly an important part of their dynamic, for Castiel. And at times, giving Cas control came as easily as breathing. Even on days set aside for supposedly vanilla dating, Dean deferred to Castiel. But he wondered if he would ever be capable of the total submission Castiel expected. 

Dean considered what their relationship might be like without the schedule and the contract.

If there was no contract, Dean thought he could kiss Castiel wherever and whenever. Hold _him_ down and give commands of his own. They could tease and touch and not hold themselves back because there was no 'Paragraph: Sex, Subsection: Oral' printed in triplicate and signed by a notary republic. 

He allowed himself a deep sigh and counted back from ten. There was no sense getting worked up over this, Dean decided. He would see how the night went and talk things over with Castiel after he had sorted his thoughts.

Dean felt his weight shift on the mattress as Castiel climbed into bed. A warm hand settled on his back and Dean whispered a short greeting to let Cas know he was still awake.

“You OK?” Castiel asked gently and Dean rolled over to face him.

They'd been asking each other that question all night. Every ten minutes, or so it seemed, like on a schedule, one would look to the other and check in. 

Dean nodded in response and lifted the blanket to invite Castiel closer. Things weren't great between them, but they found still comfort in each other's arms and could agree on 'OK'.

Castiel pressed a chaste kiss to Dean's forehead and adjusted the pillows behind his back so he was seated upright. Dean's head found a familiar, natural position in Cas's lap. 

Dean saw himself offer submission freely in the gesture and appreciated how Castiel's hand immediately dropped to his head, petting him. 

Dean squeezed an arm under Castiel's thigh to relieve the strain on his shoulder and asked in reciprocation, “OK?”

Castiel hummed the affirmative as his fingers idly traced the shell of Dean's ear. He reached for the remote, “TV good?”

Nodding into Cas's leg, Dean smoothed the blanket for a clear view of the set. He could feel Castiel moving restlessly as he bounced his foot and fiddled with the remote. Dean didn't have much interest in watching anything, but if it helped Castiel fall asleep, he didn't mind the background noise to his thoughts. 

Dean stroked Castiel's knee and wished that his Dom would allow himself to be coddled every now and then. He thought to ask if there was anything he could do to help, when Castiel sat up straighter. 

Dean saw the title screen for Discovering Dragons, or some such thing, flickering on the television in a blaze of fire. He was pretty sure it was another mockumentary, like the mermaids and sasquatch, and he wondered what it was about mythical creatures that Castiel found so captivating. 

As Castiel stared at the 'evidence' being presented by a group of Norwegian archaeologists, Dean reverted to his self-imposed challenge of imagining Castiel as a dragon. Fantasizing about Castiel in the forms of the myths he enjoyed so much was becoming a hobby of Dean's. 

He hugged Castiel's muscled leg to his chest and imagined them large and powerful, pushing off the ground as a pair of enormous wings carried him into the air. 

It wasn't long before Dean had completely tuned out the television and was engrossed in his own daydream.

Dean's hand crept up Castiel's chest, feeling him breathe and wondering how lungs could hold fire without burning from the inside out. He paused there for a bit and Castiel's hand rested over his. Dean frowned when he considered Castiel's hands would be transfigured into talons and intertwined their fingers to appreciate their human softness and strength.

The position quickly became uncomfortable, Dean's arm thrown over his face. But he didn't want to let go of Cas's hand and he carefully scooted upright and laid his head on Castiel's shoulder. 

The fingers of his other hand walked up Cas's arm and over his neck. _Scales_ , Dean thought fondly as his fingertips grazed the collar of Cas's shirt. He looked up at Castiel curiously and felt the skin of Castiel's throat. It was warm and smooth. His hand cupped Castiel's jaw in quiet mourning of his human face. His fingers traced a perfect line of stubble as he stared. 

Keeping his focus on the TV screen, Castiel swatted at Dean's hand and made a noise that would have been a giggle if not for the depth of his voice. “That tickles.”

Dean smiled and did not stop, trying to coax that sound from him again. 

Castiel had been lost in his thoughts about their contract, trying to convince himself that things would get better after some revision. When he felt Dean's fingers on his throat, he shied away. But Dean was insistent and Castiel had to chase his hand to get him to cut it out.

“Enough,” Cas said as he caught Dean's hand. “I said stop.” To soften the reprimand, Castiel pressed a kiss along Dean's knuckles before pushing his hand down. His mind was still making a list of changes to propose and he was caught completely off guard when Dean started in with his questions.

“Feathers or leather?” Dean asked, craning his neck like he was trying to see something hidden behind Cas's back.

Castiel appeared lost. “What are you talking about?”

“Dragon's wings,” Dean said like it was obvious. “Do you think they'd be like birds or bats?” Dean had never seen a dragon depicted with feathered wings, but the show had said something about feathers and now Dean couldn't get the image of Castiel wrapped in a pair of large, feathered wings out of his mind. There was a strange beauty in it and Dean wanted to see more. He blinked up at Castiel, trying to superimpose every line of his face to the picture in his mind.

“I don't know, Dean,” Castiel grumbled with annoyance. “Feathers or leather... We could watch the show and find out.” He gestured to the TV with a sigh.

With a hard swallow, Dean ducked his head and released Castiel's hand. He didn't think that his question was so offensive. 

Castiel bit his tongue as he saw Dean shrinking before him. He heard the way he had snapped at Dean over something as trivial as a TV show and he felt terrible about it. Dean was at least trying to make the best of their awkward situation, Castiel could put up an effort as well.

Cas recaptured Dean's hand and dragged him in before he had the chance to pull further away. He tipped Dean's face up. 

“You know what?” He lifted the remote and turned off the television, eliminating the main source of light in the room. What little light remained came from the street lamps through the windows and illuminated them in a soft yellow glow. “Who needs expert scholars and decades of research, anyhow? You've got at least a Master's in geek culture and I'm a pre-med no show. I think we can put our heads together to solve the mystery of this beast. Am I right?”

Dean's face lit up like the fourth of July. “Yeah, OK. But I've got a _Doctorate_ in geek culture,” he corrected enthusiastically. “I didn't translate Slaughterhouse-Five into elvish for some punk-ass MA.”

Dean's eyes had adjusted to the dim light enough to see Castiel look impressed. “You translated Vonnegut?”

“Well, no. I-” Dean gave a small shake of his head, “I thought we were doing a _thing_. Ya know?”

“Oh, right.” Castiel felt like an idiot. “Credentials noted, Doctor Winchester.”

“Why, thank you, Doctor Novak.” Dean sat up so they were facing each other. “So, back to the subject of wings: feather or leather?”

Castiel considered his options, stroking his chin with a stern look of concentration. “Leather, I think.”

“The scientific community is gonna need more than 'I think', Doctor.”

Dean suspected Castiel had seen the documentary before, especially as he went on and on about hollow bones and methane sacs. When Castiel started listing minerals that could collect between a dragon's teeth and effectively cause a spark, Dean grinned at the fact he was dating a certified nerd.

“If I were a dragon, I'd eat entire herds of cattle, grilling cheeseburgers in my mouth,” Dean smacked his lips and noticed when Castiel didn't make a disgusted face.

“I thought dragons ate virgins not burgers,” Castiel raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“I thought they saved virgins,” Dean said with a frown.

Castiel spoke confidently as he schooled Dean on the place and purpose of virgins in his version of dragon lore. “Virgins were offered up as sacrifices by the locals so the dragon wouldn't raze their village to the ground. If fresh virgins weren't given up freely, the dragon had every right to steal the princess.”

“Yeah, _or_ the dragon _rescued_ the virgin from the crazy townies who just served her up like a snack pack.”

Sitting back, Castiel crossed his arms over his chest. “You're surprisingly passionate about this, Dean.”

“Yes, sir. I believe that virgins are to be cherished, not eaten.”

Castiel shook his head as he laughed. “If I was a dragon, and you were my virgin princess, I'd cherish you. Right up until the moment I swallowed you whole.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Dean held up his hands like a pair of stop signs. “How about prince, man? I mean, come on!” He put on a weak chuckle in his discomfort.

“Dean,” Castiel brushed the stray hairs from Dean's forehead, “you are far too pretty to be a prince.”

The humor drained from Dean's voice and he looked down at his hands. “Don't do that, OK?”

Castiel sat forward, struggling to read the lines of Dean's face in the dark. “Do what?”

“Don't _feminize_ me.” Dean scratched his arm distractedly. “I know you don't mean anything by it, but-”

Castiel held Dean behind the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He didn't think he could be more proud of him for finally expressing himself without prompt or some drawn out power-struggle. “Never again,” he promised. 

“Mmm,” Dean licked his lips with a pleased smile. “You'd still protect me though, right?”

Castiel dragged Dean into his lap and Dean saw his favorite gummy smile spread over Castiel's face. “I'd swoop over your village, grip you tight, and burn down the bastards that tied you up in the town square.” 

“I ain't scared of no backwoods hicks,” Dean boasted, all bravado. “Besides, I'm a damn good escape-artist. I mean, did you see me at the club? Those ropes couldn't hold me if they were made by Wonder Woman.” Dean bit his tongue and lifted his eyes to Cas, unsure if maybe he shouldn't have mentioned his previous employment. 

Unfazed, Castiel just wrapped his arms more tightly around him. “You're familiar with rope, Dean?” He never mentioned his interest before. Castiel thought he might have mentioned it when they had talked about Anna, Castiel's first and only other pet.

Dean felt his face heat up as Castiel held him in place. “Yes, sir,” he admitted. 

As their talk switched to ties and restraints, Dean found his confidence again. Castiel may have a wealth of knowledge about the modern search for the supernatural, but Dean had been experimenting with rope since he was a kid playing Lone Ranger with the neighborhood boys. He considered himself a natural Houdini and nearly told Castiel as much.

“And you like being restrained?” Castiel tilted his head, curious. He understood the appeal of tying his partner down or even stringing them up. But Cas wondered how someone like Dean, who still struggled at times with the idea of submission, would enjoy the immobility of restraints. 

Dean nodded.

“What do you like about it?” 

Dean shared candidly, not meeting Cas's eyes. He played with the buttons of his night shirt while he spoke; his head tucked into the crook of Castiel's neck. 

“It's different things,” Dean started to explain. “Just being held in place... helps. Makes it easier for me to let go, let someone else take over... It's fun too, to struggle against the ties. And some of the patterns can feel like you've got your Dom's hands all over you. And you know how much I like your hands on me.”

Castiel kissed Dean's cheek, then mouth. “I like when you tell me.”

“Have you ever been tied up, Cas?” Dean saw the subtle change in Castiel's face as he considered the question.

“Yes,” he admitted. “It wasn't like you described. I didn't like it.” His hand found Dean's in the dark.

“You didn't trust them.” Dean reasoned correctly, giving Castiel's hand a gentle squeeze.

Castiel shrugged as he admitted, “We didn't know what we were doing. It wasn't his fault.”

“It was painful?”

Castiel nodded, “And scary.”

Dean admired the way Castiel spoke so honestly with him. He didn't seem embarrassed by his fears like Dean so often was. 

“It wouldn't be like that with me,” Dean said quietly. “I'd make it good for you. You'd feel safe, wrapped in my rope. Just tight enough to hold you right, and my voice would never leave you.” Dean blushed as he spoke and he kissed Castiel's neck to give himself a moment to regain his composure. “I wouldn't let it hurt.”

Castiel held him closer and listened quietly as Dean talked about his favorite types of restraints. Instead of categorizing Dean's preferences and trying to read between the lines as he spoke, Castiel allowed himself to relax into their easy conversation. They traded questions and experiences back and forth until their eyes grew heavy and they drifted off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry, I know. Look.” Gabriel pursed his lips, considering how to approach the subject. “It may not seem like it, but that little ball of awkward is my favorite person on the planet. I wouldn't let anything happen to him that I could avoid. And if that means entering awkward conversations with his boyfriend, I'll go there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end (possibly triggering emotion stuff, not sexual).

Castiel woke surrounded by a warmth that was somehow under him and over him at the same time. It was comfortable and comforting in a way that Castiel was sure he had not experienced in a long time, if ever. But as awareness returned to his body, a heaviness in his chest advised him this pleasure was fleeting. 

He breathed in the scent of Dean, and while it was pleasing in ways his tired mind couldn't articulate, Cas found it couldn't quite fill his lungs. Instead of turning to panic, Castiel understood. His limbs felt stiff, weighed down by more than Dean's arms and legs. It was a familiar feeling, like sinking in sand, a sensation that Castiel had felt too often to forget. He closed his eyes again and wished for sleep to return so he could wake up from this bittersweet dream. 

Dean had been lying awake for a while, enjoying the weight of Castiel as he slept. He tried not to think about much as his hands traced lazy lines over Castiel's shirt, starting at his spine and trailing out over his shoulders and arms. The image of wings still fresh from the night before, Dean fancied that he'd caught himself something more precious than a dragon. 

Castiel was a calm and strong presence in Dean's life, the only one who could tell Dean he was looking out for his best interest and have Dean believe him. Castiel had seen him at his most vulnerable and never took advantage or preyed on his weakness. Dean had found himself a guardian, an angel. 

As his fingers made another slow journey over Castiel's body, Dean felt his angel shiver. He pulled the blanket closer and whispered into Castiel's hair, “I like the feeling of you in my arms.”

A low voice answered, “Me too.” Castiel stared at the fibers of Dean's shirt without emotion. The only thing he felt was exhaustion and an undercurrent of anxiety because Castiel knew what was happening to him. And he knew that getting himself out of bed was going to be a battle. 

Castiel's sleepy response had been unexpected and Dean smiled down at him in surprise. It took a moment for Dean to realize that Castiel couldn't see his expression, but then he pressed his lips to the top of his head. “Good morning, angel,” Dean put voice to his thought.

As tired as he was, Castiel registered two things wrong with Dean's statement. First, he could see nothing good about it being morning. Second, well, Castiel found it difficult to care enough to form an argument. It was too early to get on about rules, titles, and schedules. Castiel disregarded the emails' calls to buckle down and toughen up with his submissive. Their rules were about to change anyway. And maybe, a very small part of Castiel warmed to the thought of being called 'angel'.

He answered with a kiss to Dean's chest, an attempt to mask any awkwardness of his silence. 

Dean's arm held Castiel tighter. He moved a little, rocking Castiel's body around as he reached for something on the end table. Bringing his hand back, Dean offered up Castiel's phone. “Gabe has been texting you. I silenced it once I saw it wasn't serious.”

“What was it?” Castiel asked without lifting his head. It felt so heavy. How did his body become so heavy over night?

Dean raised an eyebrow as Castiel laid on his stomach scrolling through the messages from last night and this morning. They all said the same thing: I'm starving.

Castiel stared at his phone like he couldn't believe that another human could actually expect him to move, let alone depend on him for something as essential as food. 

Sensing something amiss, Dean tried to lighten the mood. “You would think that a person who literally owns a sandwich shop, could find something to eat.”

Castiel's mouth twitched, but he couldn't find it in him to smile.

–

Things got marginally easier as Castiel entered his 'Dean's-place' morning routine. After his shower and breakfast, he nearly felt alive, no longer a lead frame mannequin. He took a shaky breath and struggled to finish the dregs at the bottom of his coffee. _Not now. Please, not again._ Castiel pleaded with the specks of grit as if they had the power to grand his request.

“Sir?” Dean touched Castiel's arm as the man stared into his empty coffee mug, unmoving.

Castiel's chin fell to his chest and he closed his eyes. “Let's not do that, today,” he said quietly, placing his mug in the sink.

“Not do...” Dean's eyebrows drew together as he washed their breakfast dishes, “I don't get it.”

Slowly, Castiel turned to face him. He cautiously expressed that he felt their contract was not working for them. He was apologetic and specified that while he had no desire to end their relationship, serious changes need to be made in the contract. The contract, the contract. If Castiel could only keep his focus on the contract, then maybe Dean wouldn't see what was really happening.

Dean's own apologies came quickly even as Castiel assured him that it wasn't his fault. Dean blamed his own inexperience for their struggle and tried to argue that it _could_ work, that they were still ironing out the wrinkles. 

Castiel shushed him and rubbed placating circles into Dean's back. He nearly choked on his words as he struggled to scrape together the strength to go through the motions of the day. “It's fine, Dean. This sort of thing happens. We'll figure it out.” He proposed that they set aside time to review and revise the entire document together later tonight.

“So, what about today?” Dean asked sincerely. He had finished with the plates and now leaned back against the counter-top as they spoke.

“We can treat it like a vanilla day,” Castiel said, but he didn't have the same confidence in his voice that Dean was used to. 

Dean searched Castiel's expression for further explanation, “You sure?” He leaned into Castiel's space in a way that most people would probably find intrusive, but it earned him a hug instead.

Castiel held Dean more to satisfy his own need than his partner's, “Sure.” 

–

Castiel didn't know what possessed him to follow through with his Costco trip, but he found himself leading Dean through the parking lot with counterfeit energy. It was the kind that came in mockingly small bursts and dissolved into nothing if he didn't concentrate on it hard enough.

Dean seemed intimidated and uneasy in the warehouse and, somehow, that helped. Castiel knew he had to hold it together for Dean until they made it to the cashier in one piece. 

Castiel dragged Dean and two giant shopping carts up and down the isles of, what he called, “a _real_ grocery store”. As they loaded up the carriages for three separate households, Castiel moved like a machine. He seemed to know where each item was located and how best to stack them within the carriages. It was a good thing he had a handle on the shopping, because Dean's head was spinning.

Despite Castiel's eerie composure, Dean found it hard to keep from feeling claustrophobic. The warehouse was packed with people scurrying about and stopping abruptly. He had been nearly run over twice and stayed on high alert for an avalanche. The palettes of stock were piled to the ceiling in most aisles, threatening to topple over. It all created a labyrinth that Dean was sure they would get lost in. 

Finally, they made it to check out and escaped the madness of wholesale back-to-school shoppers. Dean grumbled about spending nearly one-thousand dollars on one trip to a grocery store, but still fought with Castiel when he offered to pay for his share. 

“I eat your food, sleep in your bed, use up your hot water... Let me pay for this. I insist.”

Dean thanked him with a small kiss, grateful when he didn't shy away from the public display of affection. Close to his ear, he whispered, “Is this a Dominance thing?” Dean quirked up an eyebrow, only half joking.

Castiel sighed as he swiped his debit card through the machine. He wasn't in the mood for jokes, not even half of one. 

–

With the Impala stuffed with food and miscellaneous household items, , Castiel directed Dean to the heart of suburbia and Gabriel's home. 

The short, boisterous man ran out to the car as if he had been sitting on the porch in wait. They parked along the street and in seconds, Gabriel's prints were all over the car. He pressed his hands and face against the windows and cried out when he saw the back seat was filled with boxes of food. “Thank God!” He raised his arms over his head in salutation to the heavens.

“Thank Cas.” Dean corrected as he climbed out of the Impala and started unloading the groceries. “I would've bought you beans and tuna.”

Gabriel grinned, already shoving chocolate candies into his mouth by the handful. Regardless of Castiel and Dean's plans, Gabriel had already claimed the box of assorted junk food as his. 

“Cassie!” Gabriel pulled him into a sticky hug, already managing to smear chocolate over his hands and face. “I knew you'd come through for me, little brother.” He planted a kiss on Castiel's cheek. “I love you.”

Castiel gave him a look that said 'watch it' and moved to help Dean sort through which items were staying and which were going home with them. In the end, the three men had to bring almost all of the grocery boxes inside the house so they could split up the mutlipacks among their households.

In the living room, Kali was laid out on the couch watching 'Whose Line is it Anyway?' and crying into a small vat of rice pudding. “I'm sorry boys. I'm fine really. It's just my hormones.”

Dean grabbed a box of tissues from their haul and placed them on the cushion beside her.

“Thank you, Dean,” she said with a sniff. Her mouth twisted into an ugly smile as she started to cry harder. “You're so sweet. Castiel is so lucky to have you.”

“Oh my God, Kali. Stop.” Gabriel said with dramatic flare. “I rubbed your feet for three straight hours today. All he did was hand you tissues so you would stop snotting up the couch.”

Kali threw her spoon at her husband with a scowl. 

Bending over to pick up the dirty spoon from the floor, Gabriel let out an exaggerated sigh. “Don't either one of you get pregnant,” he warned. 

Dean saw Castiel's face fall, just for a second, and unloaded the last box onto the kitchen table. He kept watch of Cas through the corner of his eye as Gabriel tossed the dirty spoon in the sink and grabbed a clean one from a drawer.

Once they were alone, Dean took Castiel's face in his hands. He knew they would only have a brief moment alone and he stared into the clarity of Castiel's blue eyes. There was sadness there, unhidden, and Dean's heart sank. He wished he knew what to say or do to ease the pain of whatever was bothering him. Dean knew that there were options, should Castiel truly want a family of his own one day: foster, adoption, surrogates. But he doubted how comforting a reminder of that would be.

His thumb wiped at Castiel's cheek, removing the smudge of chocolate left behind by Gabriel's greeting. Then, Dean pressed his lips over the spot and reclaimed Cas with a kiss of his own. “Still OK?”

Castiel rested their foreheads together and, though he was still frowning, some of the hurt had faded from his eyes.

Dean brought his hands down to Castiel's hips and kissed him once more.

“No!” Gabriel shouted as he entered the kitchen. “No lovey-dovey garbage until we make some real food.” He moved around the cabinets quickly, grabbing pots, pans, and mixing bowls and pushing them onto the stove-top. He moved quickly as if afraid that a minute idle could inspire another affectionate distraction.

“You!” He pointed at Dean, “start boiling water. Castiel,” he held out a vegetable peeler, “get to work on those potatoes.”

“I told you yesterday, we are not going to cook for you.” Castiel stuffed the peeler back in the drawer.

“Dean-o?” Gabriel pleaded, opening his eyes wide and innocent. “Please! I'll make you pie.”

Dean's eyes went wide and he snapped a hand towel at Castiel, “You told him about the pie?”

“Of course I didn't tell him about the pie.”

Gabriel looked horrified. He set the pie plate on the counter as he considered their reaction. Then: “Ew! What'd you guys do with the pie?”

Gabriel's terror only grew as he watched Castiel's face flush scarlet. Dean covered his own embarrassment with a smug grin and enthusiastically agreed to accept pie as a fee for service.

“Just don't _do_ whatever you _did_ in my kitchen, alright?” Gabriel snatched up a bag of candy and backed out of the room, “There's a lady present.”

Castiel started to protest, stating again that he would not cook for his older brother.

Dean reached for him and smiled. “Dude. I seriously don't mind. I mean, we'll start with the basics and he can mix and match to his heart's content. It really won't take long.” Dean stroked his arm, “I know you, man. You and I have been taking care of our brothers for years. This is nothing new. What's wrong?”

“He can do it himself,” Castiel muttered under his breath.

“Huh? I didn't catch that.” Dean stood only an arms length away, but it felt much further.

“I don't know,” Castiel turned to focus on anything other than Dean's face. “It's nothing”

Dean tipped up Castiel's chin and shook his head, “I've never seen you so...”

“It's nothing” he said a bit louder, pulling away from Dean's hand.

Folding his arms over his chest, Dean narrowed his eyes. “Stop saying it's nothing. It's not _nothing_.” 

Castiel raised his eyebrows, taken back.

“Sorry,” Dean began, his voice soft once again, “it's just...”

Gabriel interrupted with a shout from the other room, “I don't hear any _cooking_!”

“Bite it, Gabe!” Dean shouted back. He lowered his voice to Castiel, his eyes welling with concern. “Why don't you go lie down with Kali and I'll get things started?”

“Dean-”

“Gimme two hours, then we'll go home.”

“OK.” Without the energy to argue, Castiel's voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

Dean brushed his hand over Castiel's. “Go rest a bit. If Gabe gives you a hard time, I promise to string him up by his balls.”

“Sounds good.”

–

Kali held out a chocolate pudding cup as Castiel joined her and Gabriel on the couch. With a tired shake of his head, Castiel refused. He had no appetite and no interest in the improvised comedy game on the television. Kali tried to engage him in conversation, but Castiel sat in silence, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Gabriel observed his brother with a slight frown and encouraged Castiel to make himself comfortable. Despite their welcome, Castiel kept to himself and stared blankly at the screen. Sympathetic, but without a clue how to help, Kali squeezed her husband's hand let the man be.

–

In the kitchen, Dean set a pot of water to boil for tea, one for rice, another for pasta, and a fourth for potatoes. He worked efficiently, quickly refrigerating the perishables and leaving the rest of the grocery unpacking for later. He prepared enough starches for at least a week of lunches and dinners. 

“I need breakfast too,” Gabriel complained as he surprised Dean's work.

“There's cereal and milk, giant muffins, danish, eggs...” Dean rattled off the list in annoyance. “I think you can handle it.” Castiel's weird mood was rubbing off on him and he wanted to resent Gabriel for taking advantage of his and Cas's kindness.

“Damn! You're bossy.” Gabriel said like he was impressed. “You and Cassie must be at each other's throats.”

“Only in the good way,” Dean defended with a hard expression. He salted the water in three of the pots and dropped a split lemon into the fourth.

“Easy, tiger. I don't judge. I think it's great Cassie's finally loosening the reigns a bit. Never seen him let anyone look after him since he moved out on his own.” Gabriel smiled in such a sly way that even a stranger would know he was feigning for a beating. “He tells me you moved in together.”

Dean squeezed another half lemon into the small saucepan for tea and stirred in a large spoon of honey. “He did not tell you that.”

“Well, no. But he's wearing your socks and, I bet, your underwear.”

“Shut it. And bring him this.” Dean ladles a cup of prepared 'tea' into a mug and hands it over to Gabriel.

“Why?” Gabriel sniffed at it – nothing but water, lemon, and honey. “Smells like vomit.”

Dean stepped into the door frame and grabbed the cup from him. “You're useless. Cas,” he crossed the room quickly with a small nod to Kali, “how are you feeling?”

Castiel sat stiffly on the couch with his hands folded in his lap. The skin under his eyes looked darker than before. He blinked up at Dean, “Sorry, what?”

Dean felt his forehead and cheeks for fever, but his skin didn't feel that warm. “Drink this, OK?”

“Uck,” Castiel gagged as he drank. “I don't like it.”

“No one does.” Dean fluffed a pillow and placed it by the arm rest. Castiel laid down without need for prompting. “You look like you may be coming down with something.”

Castiel huffed and pulled his knees to his chest. He looked so young, so small. Dean ran his fingers through Cas's tousled hair a moment before he turned away. 

Castiel curled up on the couch and wished he was home.

When Dean made it back to the kitchen, Gabriel was sitting at the table, sorting through the mail. The groceries were still in their boxes strewn over the tiled floor.

“You could help. I know you can cook; you own a shop for fuck sake.” Dean hated to see Cas sick and Gabriel's bullshit was wearing his patience thin.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel continued to open envelopes and placed them in separate piles: bills and junk. “You think Cassie's sick?” He doesn't look up as he asks, but Dean suspects real interest.

“I don't know. He's been kinda _off_ today.” Dean started to separate the groceries into a pile of what needed to be returned to the car.

“Hmm.”

“What 'hmm'?” Dean snapped, pausing his work. “What's that mean?”

“Did Castiel tell you anything? About him? About... before you?” 

Dean's eyes sent daggers across the table.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Gabriel apologized, “I realize that didn't come out right. I'm honestly not trying to be a dick. I'm just wondering how much Castiel has told you?”

“I'm not sure what you're getting at, man.” Dean grabbed a few boxes of spiral macaroni and dumped them into the boiling water. He measured out rice for the other pot and turned the burner to low. When those were set, he went to work seasoning the vegetables. 

“OK.” Gabriel pushed his bills aside and grabbed a bag of potatoes. “You know about our parents, right?” Leaning back he could reach the utensil drawer and started peeling.

Dean nodded as he sprinkled soy sauce and ginger on the string beans, “Cas said he had a hard time of it. Gave you and Michael a lot of credit for helping him through.”

Gabriel's hands fumbled with the potato peeler, but it was something to do, a way to keep his mind occupied by anything other than thoughts of his brother losing his grip. “He gets into funks sometimes. I don't know if it's like, capital D depression or whatever, but...”

“Depression?”

Gabriel sighed. He knew there was a risk in telling Dean as much as he did, but he feared what could happen if his brother was ignored. Castiel hadn't had it easy in life, but he made due and pulled himself up by his boot straps more times than not. And sometimes, he needed help. “How are things going between you two?”

“Not that it's any of your business...”

“Sorry, I know. Look.” Gabriel pursed his lips, considering how to approach the subject. “It may not seem like it, but that little ball of awkward is my favorite person on the planet. I wouldn't let anything happen to him that I could avoid. And if that means entering awkward conversations with his boyfriend, I'll go there.” Taking a breath, Gabriel pushed aside a handful of potato skins. “Now, you guys have been together awhile right?” He waved his hand through the air as if erasing a mistake. “Of course you have. Sorry. It's just that Castiel has _never_ brought anyone home to meet the family.” Gabriel set the peeler and potatoes down for a minute and looked over at Dean. “What I'm trying to say is this: Around New Year's, Cas's mood started to pick up again. Guessing that's about the time you guys started seeing each other?”

Dean stayed quiet. He knew from some of their first conversations that Castiel had started to frequent the club about nine months ago, so technically Gabriel was right. That was probably about the time Castiel started seeing him.

“Anyway, I had a feeling Castiel was dating again. He started looking forward to the weekends. And, well, not that he's ever been one to smile much, but I could tell, you know? He was happy. You're good for him. That's why I asked about... I thought maybe things had... whatever. Just keep an eye on him, eh? If he still seems, I don't know, _off_ in a few days, let me know. You'll be around, yeah?” Gabriel was rushing. Feuled by worry, he said as much as he could as quick as he could.

“Yeah, man,” Dean assured him, starting to understand that things were more serious than he thought. “I'm, uh, not planning on going anywhere.”

“Right. OK. Good.” Gabriel got up to rinse the peeled potatoes. 

When the water shut off, Gabriel turned around with a frightened expression. “I didn't just freak you out or scare you off or anything, did I?”

“No,” Dean answered honestly. He was more determined than before to prove himself to Castiel. “No, not at all.”

“Phew. I would have been castrated, I think,” he forced a laugh.

“Don't sweat it. We're good. I'm, really, I'm glad you told me.” Dean snapped the tops onto the containers of vegetables and slid them into the fridge.

Gabriel was quiet after that and helped Dean chop root vegetables for roasting while he dressed the pasta in three ways and smashed the potatoes. Dean had just whipped the potatoes into fluffy peaks when Kali waddled in, one hand atop her belly, the other rubbing her lower back.

“The littlest Novak's fallen asleep,” she announced in a hush. She came up behind Gabriel and gave Dean a sympathetic smile, “ I really hope he didn't make you cook all this alone.”

“It was no trouble,” Dean wished he could see into the living room to where Castiel had been left on his own.

Kali hummed around a spoon of mashed potato. “You certainly know your way around a kitchen. Doesn't he, darling?” She smacked Gabriel's arm.

With a roll of his eyes, Gabriel agreed. “He does.”

Kali let out a sigh that sounded like she had been holding for ages. “Well, have you asked him yet?”

Dean looked between them, confused. “Ask me what?” His attention had been on Castiel but he didn't think he'd missed anything important. 

Kali gestured for Gabriel to jump in, but he remained silent and pouting.

“Dean.” Kali's voice rose an octave and Dean knew she would be asking for a favor. “Would you be at all interested in helping us at the shop?”

“What?”

“Just a bit. We wouldn't tell Castiel if you said 'no'.” She rubbed her belly. “If you haven't noticed, I'm gigantic with child and it would be a great help if we had someone we could trust... Four nights during the week? Three? We'd pay you, of course.”

Dean found it hard to concentrate on anything while his boyfriend was sinking into darkness the next room over. “I'll have to run it by Cas... uh, and the garage. But I don't see why I couldn't work something out.”

–

Dean knelt by the side of the couch and woke Castiel with a gentle shake.

Castiel blinked slowly and opened his eyes. They looked out at Dean in front of him and softened. With effort, Castiel lifted his hand to Dean's face and rubbed behind his ear affectionately. “Missed you, Kitty.” he mumbled into the pillow.

Dean brought his hand down with a light touch. “I'm taking you home now.”

Castiel accepted Dean's help to stand and gave weak waves to Kali and Gabriel.

Gabriel looked on with a worried expression and stood up from the couch. “Feel better, kid.” he hugged Castiel with a firm pat on the back. “We'll talk soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: symptoms of depression


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to take care of Castiel at home.

Dean parked the Impala in front of Castiel's home without explanation. It didn't make sense to go back to the apartment when Castiel was so clearly out of it. Dean figured Cas would do better in familiar surroundings, the comforts of his own home, and so he asked Castiel for his house keys and let them in the front door. 

Once inside, Castiel shuffled on ahead. 

Dean stuttered as he called softly after him. “You OK?” _Talk to me._

Cas paused in the hallway but he didn't turn around, didn't verbalize a response. He had no answer that would satisfy his friend. If Dean couldn't see that things were slipping further from OK as they stood, then he didn't know what to tell him.

But Dean did see and he was there and he wanted to help. Staring at Castiel's slumped shoulders and bowed head, Dean over-thought every word and action. He knew he had to stop pressing Castiel to talk. Biting down on his tongue to keep from asking, again, if Castiel was all right, Dean followed Castiel into his home. 

Feeling Dean come up behind him, Cas padded off to the bathroom and he silently hoped Dean wouldn't join him. Castiel didn't even want to be around himself right now, he couldn't fathom why Dean hadn't just dropped him off and ran.

It wasn't hard to keep up with Castiel as he dragged his feet, but it was obvious he didn't want the company. “I'll be right back,” Dean reached for Castiel's hip, just to touch the man who seemed too far away. “I need to get some things from the car.” 

Castiel flinched at the contact and Dean's throat went dry. He dropped his hand and swallowed before turning away. “I'll be right back,” he said with a soft promise.

By the time Dean had unpacked the car and put away the groceries, Castiel had still not finished in the bathroom. Dean stood outside the door and listened to make sure his boyfriend was safe. Sounds of water running and the regular clunk of soap bottles let Dean breathe a bit easier. Unlikely that Castiel would hear him should he knock, Dean looked around the house for something to pass the time. 

Castiel's home was pristine. Everything was clean lines and straight edges. Despite the plush carpets and overstuffed couches, it did not have that 'lived in' feel that made Dean's apartment so welcoming. Instead, each room seemed untouched and off limits. 

As Dean gathered what little garbage there was from the wastebaskets, he realized how infrequently Castiel had been in his own home. Guilt washed over Dean and pooled in his chest. Here, Castiel had a beautiful house that he clearly cared for with attention and diligence. But for Dean's comfort, they had spent many nights at the apartment, using the house only as a quick stop-over for fresh clothes. 

Moving through the rooms, Dean looked for clues. He tried to find anything that might help Castiel from slipping further into the depression that Gabriel and Kali worried was inevitable. Based on how quick Castiel's own family members were to judge his fate, Dean worried that Cas would have drawn the same conclusion. Inevitable. 

Dean wouldn't settle for it. To him, there was no reason why Castiel couldn't turn things around. Gabriel had said Cas refused medications in the past, so there had to be something else that brought him balance. 

In the living room, Dean found shelves of books. Some were spiritual, many were history, and a few looked like photo albums. Dean grabbed a brightly colored album from the shelf and brought it with him to the bedroom. His fingers moved quickly as he flipped through the pages until they settled on one that caught Dean by surprise.

The page was heavier than the rest, weighed down by a medal of participation and a race bib. Two pictures were affixed to the page at odd angles displaying a crowd of people, most doubled over with their hands on their knees. Off center in both photos was Castiel, standing tall and looking pleased with himself. At least, Dean believed the man was Cas. It was hard to tell with everyone covered in mud and paint. 

Dean read the race bib more carefully and took note of the event. It seemed like a positive memory and Dean was determined to have Castiel focus on happier times, while hopefully creating more of the same. Placing the album on Castiel's dresser, he saw a pair of trainers peeking out from beneath the bed and his mind brewed with a plan. He was cautiously confident that Castiel would benefit from running again, but for now, Dean knew he had to get him through the night without inadvertently pushing Cas away. 

Trying to account for all avenues the night may take them, Dean turned down the sheets in case Castiel chose to go straight to bed and ordered a pizza in case Castiel decided to stay up. He stopped in the doorway on his way out and took one last look at the room. Castiel was so good at knowing just what Dean needed, surely there was some hint in this austere set up that could help Dean find a way to get through to him.

That's where Castiel found him, leaning on the door frame and squinting into the empty room. Hair still wet from the shower and mouth drawn into a frown, Castiel looked like a drowned cat. Dean would have found it adorable if he hadn't seen just how miserable Cas was. His face must have given something away because Castiel drew himself up a bit taller, an attempt to save face. 

“You don't have to stay,” Castiel said with more energy in his voice than Dean had heard all day. “I won't be much fun today.” He stood a step or two further from Dean than they were used to, but his posture was open. 

It could have been an invitation for affection, but Dean didn't want to read too much into it. Castiel had always been upfront about what he wanted and expected. So although Dean's arms ached with the urge to pull Castiel closer, he waited for direction. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Cas uncomfortable. It was best that he feel safe in his home, in Dean's company. 

With some effort, Dean spoke with a soft and even tone. “I'm going to stay, if you don't mind.” 

In the silence that followed, Dean held his breath. He was nearly shaking as he mentally prepared himself for rejection, but the rejection didn't come.

Castiel's eyes lifted to Dean's with a spark of disbelief, then his head tipped in a slow nod. He didn't call for Dean to follow him or express gratitude for the companionship. He just turned and walked down the hallway without a word.

Dean followed with careful measure to keep a respectable distance between them, maintaining the boundary Castiel had set. When they made it to the living room, Dean studied the small couch like it was a puzzle to be solved. 

Castiel took his seat at one end of the sofa, only slightly larger than a love seat, and stared at the blank TV screen. As if taking no notice of the comfort awaiting him should he lean back into the plush cushions, he kept his spine pencil straight and feet planted firmly to the floor. 

Dean stood, observing his posture. Without instruction, Dean was uncertain how he was to conduct himself. Kicking off his shoes and standing them near the wall, Dean thought through his options. He could speak up, join Cas silently, walk away... Would Castiel accept his presence on the couch beside him? Would he prefer to be left alone? 

It worried him that he didn't know intuitively how to conduct himself around his boyfriend. He felt like Cas would know what to do, regardless he was Dom or sub. 

A small movement of Castiel's hand caught Dean's eye. Although his focus was elsewhere, Castiel's fingers curled and flexed against his thigh. It looked like he was scratching an itch, but very slowly. After a moment Dean had figured out what he was doing and he knelt at Castiel's feet. 

_Missed you, Kitty._ That was how Cas had addressed him when he woke from Gabriel's couch. Dean could do that, be that, for Castiel now. 

Dean kept his eyes on Castiel's face as he lifted the man's hand and dropped his head to Castiel's lap. Once in position, he lowered Castiel's hand to his hair and waited for the movement to resume. When it did, Dean knew his suspicions were correct. Castiel's fingers curled in his hair and scratched his scalp with familiarity as they provided each other silent companionship.

Dean nuzzled against Castiel's thigh and looped an arm around his calf, finally satisfying his desire for physical contact. It wasn't quite the embrace he would have asked for, locking arms around Castiel's shoulder and burying his face into his neck, but it was what Castiel could give and it was enough.

Dean had no idea what time it was, he guessed early evening, but it didn't make a difference. He had already made the decision he wouldn't leave, no matter what. Monday morning he'd make sure Cas got to work all right and then head home to change before his shift at the garage. No big deal. He even considered surprising Cas with a brief lunch date, though he might have to adjust his work schedule in order to arrange it. Not wanting to make promises he couldn't keep, Dean kept his plans to himself. 

Castiel's fingers continued to move over his head and neck, soothing Dean's worry as if he was the one who needed saving tonight. It baffled him. Dean wanted to be the one offering comfort, not accepting it. 

Dean remembered his conversation with Gabriel, where the man had asserted that Castiel needed him. According to the one person who probably knew Cas best, Dean's presence mattered. _But Gabriel was drawing conclusions without the most accurate information_ , Dean's conscience reminded him. Dean hadn't started dating Castiel until recently. Any change in his emotional state happened before they got together. And following that line of reasoning, Dean realized that it wasn't until they started dating that Castiel took a turn for the worse.

Dean bit down on his cheek - hard. _Stop!_ He had to get out of his own damn head. Maybe some light conversation would be good for both of them. 

Opening his mouth to ask some benign question about the weather, Dean caught himself. _Kitty doesn't speak._ Gritting his teeth together, Dean let out a frustrated sound and pressed his cheek harder into Castiel's leg.

Despite the far-off look in his eye, Castiel recognized the agitation of his pet and pushed puffs of air through his teeth. His hand opened as he petted Dean in long, slow passes. 

As his fingers swept over Dean's neck, they slipped under the collar of his shirt and squeezed the muscle of his shoulder. 

A short groan escaped Dean's lips as his body responded to Castiel's touch. 

Cas continued to knead the meat of Dean's shoulder, only releasing it to periodically caress Dean's throat and jaw. 

Dean wished he could speak. He wanted to place his own hands on Castiel, to coddle him and pamper him with the affections he was so freely doling out despite his own emotional pain. 

As he fought against the concepts of _pet_ and _submissive_ , Dean was missing the point. For all his hunting for clues and meticulous observation, he was blind to the fact that _this_ was helping. Having someone to care for, someone who needed him, gave Castiel a sense of purpose and motivation for more than just wallowing in his own suffering. 

When the doorbell rang, Dean looked up at Castiel to see what he would do. Much to his surprise, Castiel petted Dean's head and stood to answer it. There was little hesitation to his movements, although he still held himself with a composure that read as forced. 

Castiel answered the door, a bit confused by the delivery of food, but thanked the girl and signed the receipt, regardless it was in Dean's name. He brought the pizza box into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. Then, almost robotic, Castiel returned to his seat on the couch. 

“Will you eat, my pet?” Castiel gestured at the food, for the first time he appeared to be grounded in the present moment.

Kneeling at his feet, Dean blinked up at him and licked his lips. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but neither of them had eaten since breakfast. Perhaps if he allowed Castiel to feed him, his friend would think to put some food in his stomach as well. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his posture in the way Castiel preferred during their hand-feedings. 

When all was right, Castiel carded his hand through Dean's hair in appreciation and wordless praise. 

Dean had assumed correctly regarding the food. After feeding Dean three slices of pizza, Castiel was able to put down all of Dean's crusts and nibble through a slice of his own. 

Despite Dean's attempts to lick them clean, Castiel's hands ended up a complete mess of grease and sauce. 

Dean crawled at his side while Castiel washed his hands at the sink and put the pizza in the fridge. His neck ached from looking up at Castiel the whole time, but Dean felt like it was important to keep an eye on him so he ignored the cramping. And there was a brief moment, while Castiel swept the kitchen floor, that made it all worth it.

Dumping the dust pan into the trash, Castiel glanced down at Dean. It was such a little thing that Dean would have missed it if he hadn't been vigilantly watching Cas's face. But as a trace of a smile flitted across Castiel's lips, Dean's heart leaped. After that, Dean's neck didn't bother him so much and, as the night went on, he made a game out of catching and categorizing the nuances of Castiel's expression.

After hours spent on his knees, Dean noticed Castiel's hand go still. They had returned to the living room some time ago where both were content to spend the time in comfortable silence. Dean knelt at Castiel's feet, but his body faced the sofa so that he could look up at Castiel's face while his head rested on his lap. Twice during this time together Castiel spoke. Both times Castiel had praised his kitty and both times Dean had answered him with a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Castiel's fingers had been twirling Dean's hair into knots for an indeterminate length of time as they stared into each other's eyes. So when the sensation stopped, Dean saw immediately the change in Castiel's expression. His head gave a little shake, as if coming out of a trance, and his eyes went wide with something akin to fear.

“Dean!” Castiel's heart skipped and took on an unhealthy rhythm. He couldn't believe he had allowed Dean to remain on his knees as Kitty for so long. “I'm so-”

Dean held his gaze and gave a small shake of head. His mouth curled in a gentle smile and he kissed Castiel's wrist, which happened to be the closest bit of exposed skin within reach. “It's OK. I'm OK.”

Castiel ran both hands through Dean's hair. “Dean,” he said again, only it didn't sound like his name. It sounded like something more, something deeper. 

Holding Castiel's hands in front of him, Dean kissed the inside of each wrist and he never once moved his eyes off of Castiel's. “I think I'd like to lie down now.”

A huff of sound came from Castiel's throat like a strangled laugh and he brought his hand to cover his mouth. “Of course. Dean, of course.” He adjusted the throw pillows to make room for Dean's body.

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched Castiel make room for him on the couch. He didn't want to take this away from Cas, now that he was finally moving and talking, but Dean was exhausted. His back, knees, and neck protested as he held himself straighter.

“Castiel?” Dean used his full name knowing it was acceptable even as a sub addressing his Dom, though he seriously doubted he would incur punishment tonight.

Cas was patting a pillow flat when he brought his attention back to Dean. “Yes?”

Picking the inseam of his jeans, Dean cleared his throat, “It's getting late, no?”

Castiel glanced at the wall clock, “I suppose it is.” His eyes lingered on the time as he wondered where the day went. He turned back to Dean slack-jawed in awe and newfound appreciation for his friend.

“Will you be staying up much later?” Dean wasn't sure if Cas would be the type to have trouble sleeping or trouble waking. Either way, he wanted to be near him, but Dean couldn't deny he was looking forward to a soft cushy bed and gratuitous cuddles.

“Would you like to go to bed?”

Dean thanked god for Cas's skills of deduction. “I'll stay here until you're ready.” Dean winced as he lifted himself onto the couch and lowered his head into Castiel's lap once more.

Castiel's hands worded over Dean's neck and shoulders, earning him guttural sounds of gratitude. “I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to work on the contract.”

_Fuck. The contract._ Dean didn't voice his thought that they didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what they are to each other.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

There wasn't much Dean could say to that. If the past week was any indication, Dean knew that he had no grasp on what tomorrow would bring. “We could still have downtime thought, right?”

“Mhmm,” Castiel smoothed the lines of Dean's forehead and took special interest in massaging his scalp as he listened. 

In an effort to demonstrate to Castiel that it was safe for him to open up, there there was nothing off limits between them, Dean shared opening and honestly about his experience since Thursday. 

Dean talked about the fun he had helping out at Ambrosia and how he was thinking of accepting Kali's offer to work there part-time. 

He recounted a bit of his conversation with Michael and Castiel filled him in with his own. After a pause to muster up the fortitude to follow through with his goal of letting down his walls, Dean told Castiel how hurt he was when Michael had said that he didn't know about him. Dean shared how Cas treated him made him feel special and wanted, but Michael's denial threatened to strip all that away. 

He explained that he truly wanted to recreate the pie scene because he wanted to hear the words Cas said without the poison of Michael's conversation. Dean wanted to add that he'd like to be the one to cover Castiel in kisses, as well, but it sounded so goofy that he just said he'd like to 'reciprocate one day' and let Cas interpret it as he wanted. 

He told Castiel that he noticed his moods changing after their stand-off in the kitchen. And he apologized. He apologized for the things that mattered and things that he had no control over. 

When Castiel placed a finger to his lips, Dean found he was grateful fro the command of silence. Somewhere along the way he had forgotten to breathe and now he was gulping air greedily as if there wasn't enough oxygen to go around. He had been rambling, tripping over his sentences so that it all became so scrambled that Castiel couldn't keep up.

Catching his breath, Dean apologized again and closed his eyes. They had become dry and scratchy, trying to watch Castiel's reactions all evening. He rubbed at them with the heel of his hand and curled onto his side. 

Dean wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep or how he had made it into bed, but when he woke up with Castiel snoring lightly beside him none of that really mattered. Cas seemed at peace, so taking care not to disturb him, Dean sneaked himself under Cas's arm and held him loose around his middle. 

_Got you, babe._ Dean sidled up real close and pressed his face into Castiel's neck. He was smiling. Regardless of the ever-changing tides of their relationship, Dean was happy. They were figuring themselves out and getting through it together. 

Castiel was safe and he was going to be OK. Dean was sure of it. He had faith in Cas and already thought there was progress being made. If they didn't let it get too far, if they caught it early, Dean felt there was no reason for Castiel's mood to slide down any further. 

Dean stroked Cas's stomach and kissed his chest, each touch a promise that things were going to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get to carry this chapter to where I really wanted it to break, but I hope you still like it.
> 
> You can find me at [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ijustfriggen) .


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tried to cheer Cas up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sadness and depressive symptoms.

The next morning Castiel woke to an offensive amount of noise coming from his alarm clock. It was certainly not the orchestrations he was used to hearing in the morning and he cringed as old-school rock 'n' roll blared from the speakers. Castiel's arm swung out with purpose but instead of smacking into the plastic frame of his clock, it collided with something else.

Dean's hand was soft and warm as he caught Castiel and pulled him to a seated position. “Rise and shine, baby.” Dean sounded far too awake for a Monday, “Today is a new day.”

Castiel's brow gathered in a deep scowl, his eyes still adjusting to the light. As he laid eyes on the man before him, Castiel thought he had to be dreaming. He squeezed his eyes closed and cleared his mind of its clouds, but when he opened them again Dean was still there, bouncing on the balls of his feet and dressed in the most ridiculous get up.

Dean beamed at Castiel's attempts to fight reality, blinking with his head cocked to the side.

Sure, Dean could have picked a pair of Cas's track pants and a boring sweatshirt for their inaugural morning jog, but the tiny red gym shorts and too-tight polo seemed somehow more appropriate. He even found some sweat bands and a pair of knee high basketball socks which he wore to perfection. Sneakers, however, were a miss. Much like most of Castiel's clothes, his shoes were a few sizes too small. So Dean's work boots completed the ensemble.

Castiel wondered if he should pinch himself. He hoped he was still asleep, that his alarm would forget to go off, and he could use that as an excuse to stay home from work. “Dean... you look...”

“Fantastic! Am I right?” Dean turned and threw a glance over his shoulder, admiring his own behind. “These shorts are doing amazing things for my butt.”

“What are you even...”

While Castiel searched for the words, Dean alternated between jogging in place and dipping into deep lunges.

“You're not a runner.”

Dean leaned heavily on his forward knee as he drew himself up from a dip. “You're not lyin',” he agreed, ignoring the irritation in Castiel's voice. He swung his arms at his sides in wide circles. “Barely warmed up and I'm already winded.” 

Smiling, Dean clapped his hands together once and loud. “Who's up for a lap around the block?”

_So that's what this is about._ “I don't think so,” Castiel tried to pull at the blankets. He barely had enough energy to complete the movement. Dean stopped him easily by sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Please, Cas.” Dean brushed the hair out of his sleepy eyes, “For me.” 

Castiel frowned. Couldn't Dean see that this was most definitely not about him?

“For you, then.” Some fresh air would be good for the both of them. “You know what I mean. Running, exercise, endorphins. Let's do this. Together. We'll kick depression's ass... Please.” 

Face still twisted in uncertainty, Castiel responded with a grunt, “Maybe I could handle a walk.”

–

It turned out, getting Castiel up and dressed and out of the house was the worst of the battle. Once Cas met the pavement, he broke into a light jog and it was Dean who had to worry about keeping up. 

Dean's boots slapped the cement clumsily, but Cas? He seemed to glide on top of the uneven sidewalk. 

They made a full lap of the block without much more than a “Wait up” between them. The second lap, Castiel increased his pace and Dean wished he had thought to bring his headphones. 

Cas had said he was up for a walk, not a mile run. _Shit,_ a sudden surge of dread rolled over Dean, _He better not be running more than a mile._ Dean couldn't remember the last time he ran. High school. Maybe. 

Though he didn't have much experience to go by, Dean thought the exercise would be easier to manage with drums and a catchy guitar riff. It seemed to help him get through a boring day at work, anyway. Next time he'd bring headphones.

Toe catching on a raised stone, Dean stumbled and swore, but Cas turned with an arm out to steady him and slowed down a bit. Sure-footed again, Dean smiled in gratitude and aimed to jog beside Cas instead of behind. Although, he was giving up a great view by doing so.

“You run a lot then?” Dean asked, surprised when it hooked Castiel into conversation. 

Cas confessed that he was a chubby kid, preferring fried cheese and candy bars over anything his parents set on the table. Cas joked that his food pyramid consisted of chocolate, gummies, cheese, salt, and bread until he hit puberty. 

Dean listened as Castiel told how he joined the track and field team in middle school at the insistence of his mother. As he lost the pudge and gained stamina, Cas found that he truly enjoyed running. Plus, it had gotten him in pretty good shape without much alteration of his diet.

“And now?” Dean followed up, wanting to learn more about the routine that supposedly tempered his depression for near a year.

“Hmm. Now...” Castiel blew a long stream of air past his lips. “Guess I haven't kept up with my usual exercise regimen. I have no interest in dieting, however.” 

Dean learned that Castiel ran about three miles before work to get his day started. Then, on months working up to an event, he trained a little differently, going to the park to strengthen his arms and core. 

Dean asked about upcoming races, but Cas hadn't even checked. He knew there would be more than a few “fun runs” in the Fall, but he wasn't sure of the dates and registration. Dean can't imagine what sadistic dick would coin the phrase “fun run” and mean it. 

Tyring to be helpful, Dean offered to look some up – which really meant that he was going to ask Sam to do some research. Dean even agreed to train with Castiel for his next race. 

“You train and then you participate.” Castiel kept his face front as they completed another lap.

“I'll cheer and hand you cups of water from the sidelines. That's all the participation I can promise.”

Castiel gave into the urge to smile, and though it didn't reach his eyes, Dean thought it was beautiful. “We'll see.”

–

Doing “Dean's research” Sam came up with a long list of races, fun runs, and charity walks coming to their area. There were maze runs through corn fields, obstacle courses with mud and ice baths and electric shocks, color runs that splattered runners with paint dust, turkey races, and crop walks. It was enough to make Dean's head spin. 

But good-ole Sammy finally found something Dean could really wrap his head around: a 5-K, zombie-infested survival-themed fun run. It even had a separate registration for people who wanted to be part of the already-infected horde that chase the living. 

“Says they even do full special effects make up on the zombies.” Dean could hear Sam's grin in his voice. “Dude, you're gonna love this!”

Dean couldn't agree more. Sam explained 5-K is just over three miles and Dean was confident he could make it happen. Eventually.

He'd never been so excited to run in his life. Perhaps his participation wouldn't be spectator-only after all.

–

Before heading to the garage, Dean dropped off a bagged lunch for Cas – grilled cheese, cole slaw, and a pickle from Ambrosia. There was also a pair of dark chocolate truffles, courtesy of something Gabriel called the “FKC”.

“Fat Kids' Club,” Castiel says with a sigh as he opened the bag. “Gabriel and I were the stand outs growing up. Youngest and heaviest. We created the club as a joke so we wouldn't feel so bad when our brother's picked on our weight.”

“But... the fat kids club?” 

Castiel shrugged, remembering his bittersweet childhood. He had mostly positive memories of the FKC. “We had a secret password and everything.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean teased, “What was that?”

“It's a secret, Dean. I cannot betray my loyalty to the fat kids of the club just to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Well, I wouldn't want to bring the wrath of the fat kids upon you. Sure they'd snap you like a twig.” Dean kissed Cas on the cheek before saying goodbye.

“You can't stay?” Castiel's eyes darkened, their spark of hope smothered.

Dean apologized. “I gotta get in early so I can help out at Ambrosia this evening. Meet me for dinner?”

“OK. About half-past 8?” Castiel could already feel the good-humor leave the room through the open door.

“Sounds good. Gabe says we should be out by 10, anyway. See you.” 

Castiel's chin dropped to his chest as Dean slipped out, “See you.”

–

At Ambrosia Dean talked excitedly about the zombie run and the time flew by. He didn't even realize it was after nine until Gabriel handed him a mop and bucket. Dean checked the time and started to worry; it was written all over his face.

“What's up?” Gabriel wiped the glass cases with window cleaner and a cloth.

“Erm, nothing,” Dean scratched at his shoulder and slipped his phone out of his pocket. “Cas was s'posed to meet me.”

Gabriel looked up, his hand leaving a streaking mess on the glass. “When?”

“8? 8:30. He said he'd come straight from work. Maybe I should call him.” 

Gabriel paused his work until Dean found Cas's number and hit send. 

The phone rang twice before switching to voicemail. 

“No answer. I think he forced it to the mailbox.” Dean was already thumbing out a text when Gabriel made the suggestion.

> DW: What happened?

Castiel responded immediately, confirming Dean's assumption that he missed the call on purpose.

“He says he fell asleep,” Dean didn't look up from his phone and Gabriel let out a sound of chagrin.

“What, like on the walk home from work?”

Dean's phone chimed with more incoming messages. “Says he was feeling tired after work and didn't see the point.” Dean frowned. “He's kidding, right?”

Gabriel gave his sympathies with a sad smile and reminded Dean that Cas wouldn't be cured by one morning jog. 

Dean knew he was telling the truth but it didn't take the sting out of Cas not being able to “see the point” in keeping their dinner plans. Dean finished cleaning up with Gabriel and grabbed two sandwiches – chicken and egg salad – in case Cas didn't _see the point_ of making food for himself either. 

As they locked up, Gabriel laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. “Tomorrow, if he doesn't come straight over, it's OK for you to go be with him. I mean, I don't really like the idea of him spending too much time alone like this.”

“Me either.” Dean fumbled with the zipper of his jacket as they walked to their cars. “You don't think he's, like, a danger to himself. Do you?” He didn't even want to think about things getting that bad, but he'd be naïve to think it couldn't happened.

“Castiel? No.” Gabriel didn't think Cassie was one to hurt himself. “But he gets in his head... when he's hasn't got anyone there to distract him, pull him back to reality. Kind of a three steps forward, two steps back deal.” It would be a frustrating, tiresome journey to recovery for all of them involved.

“K,” Dean said simply, firm in his resolve to help his friend.

Gabriel saw the determination in the set of Dean's jaw. “K.”

–

Castiel was still dressed in his work clothes and lying half-asleep on the couch. The menu for Firefly flickered on the television screen. 

Dean sat on the cushion next to him and held out a paper-wrapped sandwich. 

Castiel peeled back a corner of paper and nibbled at the bread, barely moving to sit up. “I- I'm sorry. Dean. Please don't be upset with me.”

Dean's expression softened and he pulled Cas's legs onto his lap. “I ain't mad at you, Cas.” He rubbed the chill from his boyfriend's feet. “Not for a minute.”

A grumbling sound came from the other end of the sofa. “There's whole 59 seconds before a minute passes.”

Dean pulled on Castiel's toes playfully, smiling to himself. “Not even for a second, baby.” He met Castiel's gaze with a kind smile. “You OK?”

Castiel nodded and finished the sandwich as Dean carefully removed his socks. 

“Not tickling you too much, am I?” His fingers traced the sole of Castiel's foot, hesitating whenever Cas's skin jumped beneath his touch.

“No.” Castiel laid back and watched as Dean laid the dirty socks on the armrest. His hands moved up Castiel's legs and settled at his waist. Watching Castiel's face, Dean unbuckled his belt and released the button of his fly. He felt Cas still and Dean smiled reassuringly, “Just helping you undress, OK? So we can shower before bed.”

Cas lifted his hips to ease Dean's task and started to work on removing his shirt and tie. 

–

Dean joined Castiel under the gentle spray of water, massaging soap into Cas's skin and frothing shampoo in his raven hair. He leaned into Dean with a low sound of comfort and rested in the embrace of arms and steam. 

They took turns washing each other's bodies. The air thick and soothing and warm; every caress between them as intimate as a kiss. 

Castiel didn't mind it when their erections brushed together, but he didn't draw attention to them either. Dean followed his lead and ignored his arousal. 

He wondered if the lack of sex drive was a part of the depression. Dean's first thought was to ask Sam, even as he stood naked with his boyfriend. Then, he wasn't so sure he wanted his brother _that_ involved in his relationship. Dean resigned to doing this bit of research on his own. 

When they were rinsed free of suds and foam, Dean sneaked an arm around Castiel and shut the tap before the water ran cold.

–

“Couch or bed?” Dean asked as they dressed in their nightclothes.

In answer, Castiel crawled over the mattress and burrowed under the untucked comforter. Dean came in close behind and Cas was glad for the company. He had been too long home alone, assaulted by the negativity he fought so hard to ignore. But Dean returned, despite Cas's failings. Waiting, perhaps, for the Castiel he knew, the Castiel who had told Dean that he would always take care of him. 

Beneath the blankets, Castiel reached for Dean, pulling his head to his chest. The man's damp hair left a wet mark on Castiel's shirt, but Cas preferred it to the distance. 

With his face tucked into Dean's messy spikes, Castiel breathed in heavy sighs and stifled whimpers. Dean was so good to him, so good for him. Could he really be the answer, the key, to freeing him from depression's dark hold? His arms wrapped around Dean tightly, his hands curling into fists at his back. 

Dean snuggled closer, tossing a leg over Castiel's thigh. “Got you, babe. Whatever you need.”

Tearfully, Castiel coughed and sputtered as he tried to clear the frog from his throat. He couldn't form words – not in his mind and not out loud. If only he could sleep, he could escape this heavy feeling of sadness and shame. If he could sleep, then he could wake, and maybe tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow he would run faster and further, smile wider and mean it. 

Like sand through a sieve, the optimism slipped away and Castiel wished for a cease to all thought and feeling. 

As if reading Castiel's struggle, Dean hummed a low tune. His song vibrated over them and, like a lullaby, carried Castiel into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter's brevity and choppiness. 
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos brighten my day. Thank you!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lingering depressive symptoms, pet play
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: Another brief instalment. Wish I had more for you guys.

It was easier to get Cas out of bed the second day, though certainly not without it's challenges. It seemed Castiel had found some internal motivation for the exercise and his efforts toward that objective got them up and out in half the time as the day before. 

Still donning his heavy black boots, Dean stomped onto the pavement and pushed himself to match Cas's skilled gait. He kept an eye on how Castiel held himself and tried to mirror his body as they ran. The way Cas's limbs moved with practiced ease, he made it look effortless. So far from the truth.

The laps passed quicker this time as Dean imagined zombies lurking around the corners of buildings. He was a warrior and danger lurked behind trash cans and shrubs. He ignored the ache in his ankles and shins, the burn in his chest, and pushed himself harder. 

He was panting and unable to properly answer when Castiel tried to engage him in conversation. He managed a few grunts and “uh-huhs,” but intelligent discourse was off the table. Castiel talked about work, mostly. One of the doctors was being sued for something or other: malpractice, neglect. Castiel didn't think anything would come of it, probably settle out of court, but it had created a new host of paperwork. He didn't sound too upset by the extra work, so Dean told him that his office was lucky to have him there, as Cas could handle it better than probably anyone else.

Castiel seemed to brighten up a little at Dean's vote of confidence. He wanted to feel useful, capable. Cas picked up the pace for their last lap.

Dean cried out and dug deeper, scraping together to the energy to run another block.

–

After finishing at the garage, Dean headed home to shower and pack some clothes and sneakers for the rest of the week. He dropped off the rent to his landlord, ignoring her probing questions about his recent company. 

There was plenty of time to spare before Castiel would be home from work, so Dean went to Ambrosia to check in with Gabriel.

Gabe put him straight to work, having already decided Dean would be of better use at home with Castiel. While business was slow, Gabriel taught Dean how to calibrate the scales, work the register, balance the till, and sanitize the kitchen. Along the way, he spouted quick tips about food safety. They kept their eyes on the time and Dean scooted out in time to meet Cas as he came home.

At quarter after eight, Dean was jogging up to the house and greeting Cas as their paths converged. With a small wave and an even weaker smile, Cas acknowledged Dean and let them in through the front. 

“Gabriel sent you to spy on me?” Cas muttered under his breath as he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Another man would have gotten defensive, but Dean had a long conversation with Garth as they mindlessly turned out one oil change after another. Garth knew a hell of a lot more about depression than Dean thought, which prepared him for when Cas made comments like that.

“I'm here because I want to be with you.” Dean took Castiel's face in his hands, “You hear me?” He gave Cas a chaste peck on his lips, “Gonna start dinner while you unwind.”

–

Castiel filled the tub with water that was too hot and scalded his hands lobster-red. He tried to doctor the temperature – draining some hot, letting in some cold, stirring in long ovals until the waves crested over the lip of the bath. He didn't even bother throwing a towel over the puddle.

Eventually it had cooled enough for Castiel to slip into the water. He thought things had been going pretty well. He had a productive day at work; his mind was mostly quiet. But there was something nagging at him, the nasty little voice. Self-depricating and destructive. Castiel had spent many years trying to ignore it's message and prove it wrong.

 _The Liar is back,_ Castiel reminded himself, sliding further below the water's surface. 

Castiel doesn't feel the passage of time but for the change in water temperature. The steam cleared and with it went the warmth. Shivering in the tepid bath, Castiel finally rallied himself to wash up and drain the water.

–

In the kitchen, Dean was sautéing leafy greens and bopping around to an unheard song. Castiel's head tipped from side to side, matching the beat of Dean's toe-tapping. 

Seeing Cas linger in the doorframe, Dean smiled and sang aloud. “Baby, if I think about you, I think about love.” He kept his head down as his smile grew. His heart leaped with hope that tonight would be better. “... I would give you both night and day of satisfyin'. Feel like makin'... Feel like makin' love.”

Dean didn't dwell on thoughts of what he may have just confessed to Castiel and the song barely penetrated Castiel's sunken heart.

Cas recognized the tune from the night before, but instead of associating it with the soothing hum of the lullaby, his mind stuck to the lyrics about sex. He felt offended rather than flattered.

“I'll finish dinner,” Castiel walked to the stove just as Dean turned off the flame.

“It's done.” Dean doesn't expect praise, but it still hurts when Castiel withholds it. “Why don't you relax.”

“I don't want to _relax_ ; I want to _do_ something.” Castiel snapped at Dean and he didn't meant to. But he sure as hell doesn't want to apologize. The words came to his lips automatically and Dean flinched at their tone, “I'm sorry.”

Castiel's clipped apology pricked with familiarity under Dean's skin. It was the flavor of sarcasm he had been used to all his life. The forced apologies given by individuals who didn't seem to know the meaning of the word. Maybe some of them hadn't even been capable of the emotion.

Dean had to bite his tongue before saying something he didn't mean. He had to believe Castiel was trying his best. It was exhausting, trying to make sure Cas was OK. He seemed grateful one minute and bitter the next. While their mornings seemed to give him a good start, the nights were so hard.

“The chicken could use basting,” Dean suggested as he left for the living room. 

It wasn't worth the fight. No. That wasn't right. Cas was worth it, worth going through this fickle purgatory. But Dean saw that arguing with him over anything at this point wouldn't solve their troubles and would likely make them worse.

In the livingroom, Dean stared at the bookshelf. There had been a clue here, once, about bringing Castiel out of himself. Perhaps there were more waiting to be found. 

Dean crouched for a better look as he skimmed over the titles, pulling on albums and journals to read their covers. There were a lot of how-to and self-help books, but their bindings were stiff. Dean pulled out a thick, grey text book and turned it over in his hands. The bold initials on the cover didn't make much sense, but Dean leafed through it anyway. Page after page of text. No pictures, no diagrams, no tables. Not helpful.

Dean struggled. He didn't know how to help and he was starting to wonder whether Castiel wanted him around at all. He sank to his knees in front of the bookcase and stared at the collection. Dean's books were all well-worn and well-read, but Cas's library looked like it hadn't been touched in ages but for an occasional dusting. 

What good were self-help books if you never open them up and read? Dean had trusted Castiel to be able to take care of himself. When he had first seen the shelves of books, he thought that Castiel knew what he was doing by refusing medications and treatment. But upon closer investigation, Dean was no longer sure.

Stepping out to the livingroom was supposed to give Dean time to calm down, but quite the opposite had happened.

His hand grabbed at the first book it landed on and he opened it to the middle with a huff. The sound and feel of it's spine cracking was satisfying. 

_See?_ Dean mocked the empty room in frustration. _This is how you help yourself._

He found a deep breathing exercise designed to calm anxieties and clear the mind. He tried it out. Dean couldn't let his mood get away from him. Nothing good could come if both he and Cas were pissy and irritable at dinner.

Dean followed the step by step instructions to the letter: placing one hand on his chest and the other on his belly, inhaling through his nose to the count of ten, taking the air into the bottom of his lungs, noticing the expansion of his diaphragm, releasing the air slowly as if filling a new balloon. 

When Castiel entered to announce that dinner was served, he found Dean kneeling in quiet meditation. He cleared his throat. “Kitty?” Dean perked up at the greeting. “Come eat.”

Thankful for the soft amusement in Cas's voice, Dean followed on all fours. It felt a little like praise and Dean soaked it up greedily. 

Dean's hands pressed into the cool tile as he waited at Castiel's feet. The man standing over him prepared their dinner dishes separately – a plate of thighs and kale for himself and a bowl for the pet.

Castiel carried both to the dining room and sat at the head of the table. When he leaned over to place the bowl on the floor, Dean knew he wouldn't be fed by hand. Disappointment tightened around his ribs like a belt. This wasn't ideal, but then again nothing ever was. 

Dean wasn't stupid, he knew Castiel wouldn't want his pet to break the fantasy by using his hands and fingers, but it was difficult to bend himself enough to eat from the bowl. As it was, on the floor, Dean needed to double over his knees with his ass in the air. And even then, his weight rested heavily on his hands as he brought his mouth to the shredded mix of meat and vegetables. The position brought the blood rushing to his head and made him giddy.

Dean had to sit up for a bit, balance his bearings before starting again. Castiel's hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder as he sat, waiting for his stomach to settle, for his head to stop spinning. When Dean leaned forward again, the hand remained, sliding naturally down his spine and onto his rounded backside.

Dean's eyes went wide, feeling Castiel grab a handful of it. He kneaded the flesh absent-mindedly as Dean ate. Holding himself upside-down, combined with the pleasure of having Cas handle him in that way, left Dean feeling dizzy and light. He ate slowly and as he drew his body up again, to take a break, Castiel's hand trailed along his back and to his face.

Dean turned into the touch and allowed his master to wipe the shine of grease from his chin. They continued this game until Dean had managed to clear every piece of chicken from the bowl. Dinner was pleasant and had passed too quickly. In an effort to drive home his willingness for submission (and to prolong the feeling of Castiel's hand on his ass) Dean licked the bowl clean as Cas watched. 

There was a spark, a small, transient sparkle in Castiel's blue eyes as Dean's pink tongue dragged along the stoneware. Long after Dean had lapped up the last remnants of salt and oil, he rose to his knees and sat back on his heels. He locked his eyes to Castiel. 

Castiel's hand held him gently at his cheek and there was a tension in his fingers, an energy that Dean hadn't felt before. He breathed and waited and watched. Castiel's eyes bore into him and Dean inflated with the attention. Castiel's blunt fingernails pressed into his jaw as he held him in place. “Good boy.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas find a new routine that seems to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual situations - of the oral persuasion.

Castiel hovered in front of the bookshelf as he searched for something to read. 

Waiting on the couch, Dean found himself begging for Cas to choose something that would help pull him out of his slump. Some nights he flipped through the farmer’s almanac, as if the crop yields had any bearing on his mood. Those nights were most frustrating. But at other times, Castiel read from the Self Help section of his library and Dean’s spirit rose a bit for the both of them. His eyes were still shut in silent prayer when he felt Castiel settle next to him, pull him closer.

Wedging himself between Castiel's legs, Dean hugged Cas's thigh to his chest. He nuzzled into him, feeling the soft heat of his crotch against his cheek. If Castiel twitched with arousal beneath the friction, neither mentioned it. Maybe one day soon, Castiel would acknowledge the sexual tension between them, but to Dean it seemed like a long way off. They showered together and slept wrapped up in each other’s limbs at night, but things between them remained tame. Dean knew when Castiel’s dick was itching to play, it was just the rest of Cas who couldn’t seem to get in the mood. 

Castiel read quietly for a while until the ring of his phone broke the silence. He bristled and took his phone out of his pocket. After a brief glance at the screen, Castiel ignored the call. A sharp coldness had returned to his eyes and Dean could only guess that Michael had tried to reach out to him. Again. Dean doubted the two of them had spoken since the weekend. He fought the urge to tell Cas to answer his damn phone. True, Michael was a dick wad, but he's still his brother. Maybe if they worked out whatever bad blood remained between them, Cas could snap out of his funk.

–

Dean and Castiel jogged each morning; the fresh air and physical activity did them both a world of good. It wasn't always easy to get Cas out the door, but once they were underway, his scowl loosened up and he began to hold himself straighter, walk lighter. 

Thursday came and went and Dean didn't even blink at the thought of losing Zachariah's money. He had the garage and a prospective job at Ambrosia. It would work out.

There were moments when it seemed like Castiel was lost in a trail of negative thought, but Dean would find his hand and bring himself a bit closer, engage him in discussion about his hobbies. 

Dean learned that in addition to running track through grade school, Castiel had participated in multiple half-marathons, mud runs, and obstacle races throughout his adult life. He learned that Castiel preferred to run for charities, particularly ones that helped children. It wasn’t very surprising to find that Cas wanted to help kids. He talked about his neice-in-progress whenever Dean gave him a chance and it always seemed to brighten his mood.

Dean held up his end of the conversation and shared about his love for reading. He shared about how he used to struggle through reading comprehension assignments in school, but overcame it by listening to music or tapping out a beat as he read. While many people told him he was only further distracting himself, he found that the additional stimuli actually helped him concentrate. 

Castiel understood. Dean had to find what worked for him, much like Cas was figuring out how to navigate himself through depression.

“How long does it usually last?” Dean asked as they approached Cas's doorstep.

Castiel shrugged. It was Sunday again but he was already feeling significantly better than the previous weekend. In fact, with the little texts and visits Dean gave him throughout the day, Castiel wondered if he could be back to baseline by his birthday.

Dean demonstrated nothing but the utmost dedication to Castiel. After a short discussion Dean all but broke his lease on the apartment to move in with Cas full time. He dragged Castiel out of bed for their morning jogs, cooked healthy, energy-rich foods, kept positive programming on the television (no crime dramas or sob stories), and brought Cas lunch at work. After eight, Dean showed up in time to drag Cas back out for a walk. Upon their return home, Dean and Cas showered and prepared dinner together. Some nights Castiel fed Dean from his hand, but more often Dean ate from the floor. Between dinner and bedtime, Dean played the role of pet. They didn't discuss it at length or plan it out in detail; it just sort of happened.

–

The following week had some give in it, to Dean it was a blessing. He and Cas still jogged in the mornings, split for work, reconvened for lunch, and met up again after Cas closed the office. Dean bounced from Cas's to work to Ambrosia and back to Cas's with barely any time to himself. It was no wonder he forgot to cancel another appointment with Zachariah.

> 1 Text Message from Unknown Caller

When Dean first noticed the text, Castiel was in the next room. He was picking out a movie – nothing sad, Dean had made him promise. Cas had something sadistic in him that yearned to be miserable, especially on slow days. This Sunday, Dean had been too exhausted (emotionally and physically) to follow through with their plans to visit the park. When Castiel suggested Top Gun, it took them twenty minutes of exasperated debate for Cas to admit that Goose's death would be too painful. Dean had to put the kibosh to Marley & Me, District 9, Serenity, and The Prestige before Castiel mentioned that he had a copy of Wanderlust somewhere. Having never seen it before, Dean had to read a synopsis online before he agreed with Castiel's call.

> Unknown Caller: Missed you. Again.

After staring at the phone for a few seconds, Dean blanched. His hands shook as he typed his response. Cas couldn't see this, couldn't know. Not when he was starting to get better.

> DW: Not doing that kind of thing anymore, man. Thanks.

> Unknown Caller: Don't lose my number.

Dean deleted all record of the conversation and sat at the table with his empty mug. He was supposed to be doing something, but he couldn't remember what.

How could he be so stupid? What if the guy demanded his money back? What if he came around and caused a scene?

Dean took solace in knowing that Zachariah had very little information about him – not his real name, not his address. His heartbeat rolled like a snare as he worried. He tried that breathing thing and became frustrated when it didn't work right away. He couldn't let go and relax like he had while kneeling in Castiel's living room. He wrung his hands out in front of him as he struggled to control his breath. 

Castiel's presence startled him. “Dean?” He snapped the movie cover closed as he approached. 

Dean looked up at him and pushed himself to his feet. _Chin up, buck-o. You expect Cas to do the same._

“Are you alright?” Castiel's eyes were clear of the fog that had settled over them the past two weeks. Dean could tell something had changed for the better, for now. It broke his heart to know that his first thought was to wonder how long it would last. Navigating Castiel's depressed mood was like walking on broken glass and Dean was tired of getting cut.

Dean wrapped him up in a hug and pressed his face into the warm skin at his throat. 

Cas held him steadily, even as he placed the movie on the table and backed them into the living room. Dean wouldn't let go. It wasn't like him to cling and it threw Cas off, pulled him out of his own head and forced him to focus on his partner.

“I've been so selfish,” Castiel said as they stood in the door frame. His fingers brushed over the short hairs at Dean's neck. He could feel Dean shaking his head in protest, but Castiel wouldn't let himself off the hook. “You've been so good to me. It's time I get back to caring for you.”

Dean sighed. It felt wonderful to feel the strength back in Castiel's arms, the confidence returned to his voice. Dean pulled back just enough so he could get a good look at him. 

Their first kiss was hesitant, an exercise in rediscovery. The press of Dean's lips against his lit something deep inside Castiel. How long had it been since he's properly kissed his boyfriend? How long had his sub been without the confident guidance of his Dom? Why? Why did he let himself jeopardize this good thing they have?

Castiel grabbed at Dean and leaned into the kisses with a hunger he hadn't felt in weeks. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” His apologies accessorized his lips and Dean believed him. When Castiel lead them to the couch, Dean sank to his knees. 

There was a pillow and blanket waiting for him. It was part of their new routine and an essential piece to Dean’s sanity. Castiel spent time with Kitty every day. When playing the pet, Dean kept near radio silence unless Castiel initiated conversation. It was easier that way. Dean didn't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing if Castiel was in total control. 

Castiel's moods were fragile at best, but their system worked. 

Dean blinked as Castiel sank to the floor beside him and a small smile curved his mouth. It was as if Cas couldn't bear to let him go so quickly and Dean could relate. Dean crawled into his lap, eager to close the distance again. After the thick wall of darkness between them, shifting back into each other's physical space was a liberation. Emotion passed between them freely – desperation, relief, regret, anticipation. The need to be closer grew exponentially with every kiss and caress.

Dean dropped his ass into Castiel's lap without thinking, rolled his hips to quell the yearning in his loins. Castiel swallowed Dean's groans of relief and fed him gasps of pleasure. He moved beneath Dean’s body, advertising his desire. “Dean, I want...”

Castiel couldn't finish his sentence. Speaking took too much time away from mouthing at Dean's neck. And Castiel couldn’t afford to waste any more.

“Take it, Cas. Whatever you want. Take me.” Dean's hands fisted into Castiel's hair as Cas sucked red marks onto his throat. He felt Castiel's erection pulse beneath him and held on tighter. 

Cas pushed at Dean's hips and turned him; he lifted him to sit on the couch. Castiel stood in front of him, his eyes moving over Dean’s body like it was the first time seeing him after an extended absence. His hand slipped under his waistband to adjust himself as his cock swelled in excitement. Dean’s mouth was plump and bruised, glistening with their shared spit. Castiel’s hand lingered and his gaze strayed to Dean’s erection, tenting in his jeans. “Take them off.”

Dean undid his fly and swept off his clothing at the command. It had been weeks since Castiel had looked at him like that, Dean worried he wouldn’t last long. After escaping confinment, his dick throbbed in relief. There was a new hunger in Cas’s eyes as he watched Dean's cock twitch and drool against his belly. Castiel's hand moved within his own pants.

That wouldn’t do, for Dean. He wanted to feel Castiel move with him, against, him, in him. He sat forward and reached for Castiel's belt. 

Castiel captured Dean's hands as they reached out. Their eyes met and, for a moment, they breathed together. Then, Castiel guided their hands to unfasten the belt, release the buttons, pull down the zipper. Their movements together were slow and deliberate. Dean tired to hold Castiel's gaze but couldn’t help his curiosity when their hands pushed Cas's khakis to his knees. 

Dean's legs straddled Castiel as he stood. His hands lingered on his thighs while he waited for Castiel's hands to make their slow journey up his arms and to the nape of his neck. He thrilled as Castiel pulled him forward. 

Cas tasted like sweat and musk, but the tang left quickly as Dean's saliva made him slick. Dean used his tongue mostly, purring as he nuzzled into the patch of hair at the base of his dick. He wasn't playing Kitty, not consciously, not really. Castiel didn't associate their pet play with sex, but the lust inside him paced like a tiger in cage and Dean gave into it. 

Integrating the two, Dean clawed at Castiel's thighs and drew him closer. When he took Castiel's length into his mouth, his throat vibrated with a feral sound. Castiel cried out and his fingers tightened at the base of Dean's skull. 

Dean moved faster. He wanted to show Castiel that he was good at this, wanted this and more. He wanted Castiel to come and beg for _more_. Castiel wasn't really the begging type, but what an ego boost that would be to see him transform into squirming mess of unmet desire. 

Castiel arched into Dean's mouth and Dean dove around the swelled flesh in a building rhythm. Castiel's breath came in gasps and groans as he drove himself into Dean's soft and pliant mouth. 

Dean wasn't sure if Castiel would fight against his desire for control, but he went for it anyway, taking Cas’s hips in a firm grip and straining his neck against Castiel's hands. He stilled Castiel's thrusts and reduced pace until the bob was frustratingly slow, then sped it up again. 

They fought a bit and it became part of it, part of the fun, part of the build. 

Dean's fingernails dug into Castiel ass as he stole control from Cas. Dean sucked and swallowed around him until Castiel's balls jumped with contraction and Cas was spilling into his throat. Dean swallowed to avoid choking and resumed the work of his tongue. He drew long stripes over and around Castiel's hypersensitive cock. Cas's knees buckled, but Dean held him steady and rose for a kiss.

Castiel tasted himself on Dean’s lips and groaned with another spike of arousal. “So fucking good to me.” Ready to reciprocate, Castiel knelt on the cushion and held Dean’s bare hips in his hands. He had just wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock when his phone went off. It would be Michael calling anyway, no harm in letting him leave another voicemail. 

Castiel breathed over Dean’s dick, cooling the smears of precome and causing Dean to shiver. He took Dean’s length into his mouth and to the back of his throat in one quick motion. There was no need for pretense and Castiel was in no mood to tantalize and tease. He sucked with earnest and rode Dean’s cock with his mouth like it was a race to the finish. 

Dean’s fingers twisted in Castiel’s hair as he struggled to keep balance. He didn’t realize how much concentration it took to stand still, but with Castiel’s enthusiasm it was a wonder Dean didn’t fall over. 

When his phone rang shortly after Castiel’s went silent, Dean fished around the couch for the source of the noise. He squinted at the unfamiliar number. “Cas,” he asked, out of breath, “whose number is this?”

Castiel hummed a few notes while he swallowed Dean down and popped off his dick to get a better look. “Kali,” he answered quickly and then got back to business. He continued to bob up and down, swirling his tongue around the crest of Dean’s cock.

With a devious grin, Dean decided to answer the phone. “Yes?” Dean kept his hand over the microphone as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Dean? Is Cassie with you?” It was Gabriel. He sounded more breathless than Dean.

Dean tapped Cas on the head to get his attention, but Castiel’s focus was elsewhere. “He’s here, Gabe.” Dean bit on his lip and breathed heavily through his nose. “’Sup?”

Gabriel’s voice was higher-pitched than usual when he spoke again, “We’re having the baby. Kali’s in labor.”

Dean gasped as Castiel dragged a finger underneath his scrotum. He had to say something, but there were no words.

“We’ll meet you at St Mary’s General.” Gabriel hung up once he heard Dean grunt in agreement.

Dean’s fist grabbed at Cas’s hair harder. He was close, so fucking close. Castiel massaged his balls and flicked his tongue over his slit and that was all it took. Dean came with Cas’s name on his lips and fell backwards onto the couch. His chest rose and fell as he gasped for air.

Castiel looked up at him with eyes of the brightest blue. Dean hadn’t ever seen him look so pleased with himself. “What did they want?”

Still panting, Dean clutched at his chest and willed his heart to slow it’s thunderous beat. “Kali’s having the baby.” A wide smile stretched across Dean’s face until it reached his eyes. “You’re gonna be an uncle, Cas.”

Castiel’s nose burned and his eyes glistened as he matched Dean’s smile. “I’m going to be an uncle.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kali has her baby.   
> Gabriel needs help setting up the nursery.   
> Dean and Castiel share some rope bondage sexy-time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A warning for slightly dubious consent which turns into full consent rather quickly. Possibly weird power exchange thing going on as Dean and Cas experiment with the switch. 
> 
> There is a more detailed description of the sex-type warnings at the end note if you are concerned about the dub-con or any other aspect of it.

At times the hospital was loud and busy. Then, it all sort of just stopped. The doors closed behind Kali, Gabe, and the nurses, leaving Cas and Dean in the hallway to wait. They sat close, their sides pressed against each other in waiting room chairs, even though there was plenty of room to stretch out. Cas’s head tipped forward and his eyes closed. Dean thought he might be praying.

 

Having had a little of his own experience with prayer recently, Dean did the same. Clumsily talking to God, or whatever powers that be were listening, he asked for the baby’s safe delivery. Dean’s lips moved as he said his silent prayer. There were awkward silences as his mind tripped over reverent phrases until, finally, Dean settled into it like conversing with an old friend. He paused after a mumbled ‘amen’ and peaked at the quiet room with one eye open. He saw Cas’s eyes drifting over the empty chairs and Dean could guess what he was thinking. Family. Michael. Luce. Rafe. They should be here. Their parents should be here.

 

Dean took Castiel’s hand and held it in his lap. “Excited?” Dean asked to break the silence and draw Cas’s attention away from what was missing.

 

Castiel squeezed his hand and exhaled slowly, “I should call them.”

 

Dean knew it was the right thing to do, despite their recent history with Michael. Castiel contacted Rafael and Dean excused himself to the ‘bathroom’. Behind closed doors, Dean dialed Michael’s number.

 

“Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you.” Michael really needed to learn what apologies were for.

 

Dean grit his teeth and spoke as calmly as he could, “I’m not calling to chat.” He refrained from punctuating his sentence with name-calling. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re at the hospital. Kali is in labor.”

 

There was a period of silence as Michael seemed to gather his thoughts. “Is she… is everyone OK?”

 

Dean knew the concern of an older brother and decided not to torture the guy. “Think so. We haven’t gotten any news yet.”

 

“Does, uh… Is Cassie there? Can I talk to him?”

 

As much as Dean wanted to get Michael and Cas talking again, to put this crap behind them, he wouldn’t spring it on his boyfriend like this. Dean knew Cas was still avoiding Michael’s phone calls. “Don’t know if that’s such a good idea, man.”

 

“He doesn’t answer when I…”

 

“Yeah.” Dean didn’t know what else to say.

 

“Gabriel said he has been having a hard time,” Michael fished for more information and Dean felt selfish for not contacting the man sooner.

 

“Getting better.”

 

“Gabriel mentioned that too. That you stuck around; helped him.”

 

Dean wanted to roll his eyes because, of course, he wouldn’t abandon Cas.

 

“Well, um, thank you, Dean.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Would you keep me abreast of the situation? Let me know everyone is OK?”

 

Dean could hear the pained uncertainty in his voice, no longer the cocksure ass now that Cas had cut him off. He felt bad for the guy, but Castiel deserved his space and Michael could stand a little squirming. “We can talk later.” Dean secretly hoped the baby would be born around 4AM Israel time so he could wake Michael in the middle of a deep sleep.

 

Dean returned to the waiting area in time to see Cas wiping at his eyes and staring at the phone in his hand.

 

“All right, Cas?”

 

Castiel sniffed. “Rafael is in Costa Rica. Lucifer is unreachable. And Michael,” he groaned, “I couldn’t…”

 

Dean rubbed his back and told Castiel it was taken care of, that they could try again in the morning. “Rest a bit. Before you know it, you’ll be holding your little niece or nephew. Then we can call Michael together.”

 

Castiel dropped his head to Dean’s shoulder and relaxed in the comfort of his arms. Time passed slowly until the sound of Gabriel’s voice made them both jump.

 

“Cassie!” Gabe’s face was red and his eyes were wet, but he wore the biggest smile. “It’s a girl!” His voice broke into a laugh as he grabbed his brother in a hug. He reached beyond Cas toward Dean, wiggling his fingers until the three of them were a tangle of limbs. Congratulations were muttered into shoulders as they held onto each other.

 

Gabriel pulled back and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Come in, come in.” He gestured to the door of the delivery room and led them inside. “Kali wants to show off her miracle.”

 

When the nurses stepped out of the way, Kali welcomed them with a look of exhaustion and pride. The baby was a purple-red color; her dark hair was striped with amniotic fluid and she looked like her skin would feel sticky. Dean stood shyly at the foot of the bed while Gabriel and Castiel flocked to Kali’s sides.

 

The mother held her baby, skin to skin, under a thin blanket. Kali smiled up at her husband and then reached out to Castiel. “Come meet your niece.”

 

“Hello,” Castiel spoke quietly, careful not to hurt the newborn’s ears. He laid a hand on her little head, shocked by how warm she felt. “What’s your name, angel baby?”

 

“Anji, say ‘hi’ to Uncle Cassie.” Kali moved the baby’s hand in a tiny wave, just brushing against Castiel’s fingers. Anji stretched and wrapped her tiny fingers around Castiel’s pinky. Once she had him in her grasp, she held on as tight as she could.

 

Castiel dragged his thumb over the baby’s pudgy arm and marveled at the softness of her skin. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Tired,” Kali admitted, “relieved. The nurses say we’ll be going home tomorrow.”

 

Gabriel snuck into the bed beside them. “Make some room for me? I want to get some gooey baby time before they whisk her away.”

 

“She is not gooey,” Castiel stated as he continued to caress her arm.

 

With a delicate touch, Gabriel lifted his daughter into his arms and settled her against his bare chest. “Come here, squish face.”

 

It was another twenty minutes before Kali had fallen asleep and Gabriel made his escape. He found Castiel and Dean in the waiting room, talking over coffee.

 

“Hey, just passed on the news to the guys,” Dean told the new father, sending off another text to Michael. Castiel had decided texting would be easier, for now.

 

Gabriel couldn’t stop smiling, “Great, thanks. Would you guys be willing to help with one more thing?”

 

Cas and Dean looked at each other with a small shrug. “Sure.”

 

\---

 

The nursery was bigger than their master bedroom, but bare from floor to ceiling. There weren’t even light fixtures or knobs on the doors. Gabriel nodded as Dean and Castiel stood with matching frowns. He tried to explain, “Kali’s family is very superstitious. I wasn’t allowed to do anything to the nursery or buy anything for the baby until after she was born.”

 

“Uh. I don’t think the stores are open this late, man.” Dean tried to calculate what was needed, where he could buy it, and how much time it would all take. If Kali wasn’t released from the hospital until the afternoon, then they would have a few hours to purchase, at the very least, a car seat, basinet, diapers, wipes, and a few changes of clothes.

 

Dean stared at the exposed wires that peeked through the hole in the ceiling. There had to be a spare dome light or ceiling fan somewhere in the house. Maybe he would borrow one from Cas’s.

 

Castiel huffed into the empty space. “There may be a 24-hour Wal-mart a few towns over,” he suggested helpfully.

 

“Huh? Oh. No.” His older brother scoffed. “Don’t even worry about that. Kali was superstitious, not me.” Gabriel slipped past them into the hallway and pulled on the drop-down stair hatch. “I got everything we need in the attic, but if my lady starts asking questions we’re going with Cassie’s story about the 24-hour Wal-mart.”

 

Dean climbed the stairs and expected a scene similar to National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation: dusty boxes, a cold draft, and broken floorboards with exposed insulation. Reality was much nicer, though the low ceiling took some getting used to. Dean and Cas helped Gabriel move the stacks of boxes down the stairs like they were on an assembly line.

 

 

As Gabriel passed furniture and baby essentials down to his brother, Castiel accepted the items greedily. He scurried back and forth from the hallway to the nursery, making piles of items that seemed to belong together. There were a few unmarked boxes that Castiel wasn’t sure where to place, so he left them off to the side. By the time the attic was cleared and the nursery was nearly full, the three of them were yawning and rubbing their eyes.

 

Gabriel folded the stairs and pushed the hatch closed as he announced, “I’m making coffee. You want?”

 

Dean and Castiel gave enthusiastic nods.

 

In the nursery, Dean made a bee line for the crib box, as he figured that would take the most time to assemble. He was sitting among scattered pieces of wood and metal when Gabriel handed him a hot mug. “Thanks,” Dean took a sip. “Do you already know where you want everything?”

 

They looked about the room, at the placement of the closet and windows. Gabriel made a face and gave an exaggerated shrug. “Can’t even tell you how much it really doesn’t matter. Kals is just going to rearrange it again.”

 

Castiel busied himself by laying down the area rug, hanging curtains, and putting together the changing table, which he assembled in nearly no time at all. Then he moved onto the closet, where he arranged the hanging organizers, baskets, and hangers for the baby’s clothes. He unwrapped all of the baby’s clothes and threw them in a hamper so they could be washed fresh for when Kali came home.

 

“I already switched the detergent to the baby stuff. It’s down in the laundry room.” Gabriel offered as he worked alongside Dean. Dean really appreciated the extra set of hands.

 

“Thought Kali was superstitious about that kind of stuff,” Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

“She gave up on doing laundry about two months ago. Couldn’t handle the stairs.” Gabriel listened for the basement door and spoke quietly once Castiel was out of ear shot. “He looks good.” The words came with a hint of surprise.

 

Dean squinted at the instruction manual and compared screws. “He’s getting there. The baby’s gonna be a nice distraction.”

 

Gabriel smiled, “Cannot believe that I’m a Dad.”

 

The men adjusted themselves to stand as they turned the crib onto its legs. Dean moved carefully to the joints and tightened every screw. “You’re gonna be great. And if you screw up, Kali will let you know.”

 

“Ha. If you only knew.” Gabriel and Dean lifted the crib and set it against the wall, away from the windows and the air vents. Then they moved onto the next big projects, a dresser and a bookcase.

 

Castiel came back in time to help them secure the mirror to the dresser. They stepped back to admire their work. “It appears adequate,” Castiel wore a faint frown as he surveyed the room.

 

“What is it?” Gabriel stood with his hands on his hips as he caught his brother’s expression.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“C’mon, Cassie. If you hate it, Kali’s gonna hate it. The two of you were like  _bred_ for babies.”

 

Dean winced a little, knowing that baby talk could be a sensitive subject for Cas and wondered why his brother couldn’t see that. Dean placed a hand on his back and stood closer. “What does it need, babe?” He tipped their heads together and tried to follow Castiel’s gaze around the room.

 

“It’s bland. Unless that’s what you were going for.”

 

Gabriel shuffled toward the last few boxes and sighed. “I picked out a bunch of decorations. Kali said she wanted a theme for the room, but I don’t know if it’s too much.”

 

Castiel raised his chin with curiosity. “Theme? What theme?” He stepped out of Dean’s light embrace and was tearing into the unmarked boxes within seconds. Dean heard him gasp and coo as he pulled out trinkets, lamps, and framed artwork. Gabriel stood over his brother with a knowing smile.

 

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head. “So what’s the theme, Cas?” When he swiped his hand over the top of the dresser, it came away with a bit of sawdust. They would need to wipe down the surfaces and vacuum the floor before showing the room to mother and daughter.

 

Castiel turned around holding up a fairy light pirate ship chandelier. “Peter Pan!” Gathering as many items as he could carry, Castiel filled every flat space with references to the children’s book. There was a lamp with Tinkerbelle’s silhouette inside, a crocodile with a pocket watch in his mouth, a tree house, fisherman’s net with shells and fake seaweed, lost boys figurines, quotes from the book, and perhaps a dozen framed watercolors of the characters.

 

Dean watched as Castiel fussed over the placement of every little thing and laughed when Gabriel rolled his eyes. He needed help with hanging up the picture frames, but otherwise Gabriel and Dean gave him a wide berth.

 

Fearing they would set the house on fire, the brothers volunteered Dean to set up the light fixture. The chandelier was ridiculous and complicated, but Dean only considered smashing it into the hardwood floor two or three times. When it was finally in place and working, it barely did anything to provide light to the room. His shoulders hunched in defeat as he scowled up at its soft glow.

 

“Oh,” Castiel’s gasp came from the hallway “it’s perfect.” Dean would have thought the phrase sarcastic if he didn’t recognize the awe in his partner’s tone. “Guys, come here. Come here!” He repeated more forcefully when Gabriel and Dean didn’t jump at his command.

 

“Bossy,” Gabriel started to tease, but quickly silenced himself when he saw what Castiel was talking about. The room looked wonderful and the dim lighting filled the room with a magical feel of twilight. “Wow,” he breathed, “Thanks, little brother.” Gabriel’s elbow wrapped around Castiel’s neck with a headlock and he pressed a firm kiss to the top of his skull.

 

\---

 

Castiel fell asleep on their way back to his house, so Dean took the opportunity to stop at the apartment for supplies. Cas had already left a message at work, letting the office know he wouldn’t be coming in. Dean wasn’t so lucky and Bobby expected him at the garage to open, with the understanding that he could cut out early in the afternoon.

 

With Castiel still in the car, Dean grabbed some simple toiletries from the bathroom and a box of toys from the closet. The memory of Castiel tangled in the fisherman’s net was fresh in his mind and Dean made sure his collection of rope was coming with them to Cas’s.

 

The sun was nearly up when Castiel sleep-walked himself into the bedroom. He didn’t need the help, but Dean guided him around the furniture anyway and stripped him of his clothes. Before even dressing for bed, Castiel was asleep again on top of the blankets.

 

Dean set his things in front of the dresser and watched the steady rise and fall of Castiel’s chest. There was no sense in trying to fall asleep when he needed to be up in a few hours anyway, so after a quick shower he didn’t bother with things like pajamas. With long strides, Dean walked around the perimeter of the bed like a predator sizing up his prey. Maybe it was exhaustion, or baby fever, or the relief of Castiel finally feeling better, but Dean couldn’t imagine a time when Cas had looked more desirable.

 

He took his rope in his hands and knelt beside him. He had several lengths of varying thickness, but he held his favorite in his lap: a set of three purple, cotton ropes. The thin braid slipped through his fingers soft and pliant from being knotted and twisted over the years. Its thread was smooth and Dean knew from experience that it would not irritate Cas’s skin, even if he liked to struggle.

 

His eyes moved over Castiel and took in his vulnerability. He hadn’t planned on tying Castiel while he slept, but as he sat there the reasons for waiting faded from Dean’s mind.

 

Dean’s hands moved skillfully over Castiel’s body as he wrapped the length of rope around his wrists and forearms. He placed knots from wrist to elbow along the more sensitive underside of his arm. Each arm was tightly bound, though they could move independently. An extra bend of rope lay between them. Dean would use it to secure his arms to the bed frame only with Castiel’s expressed consent.

 

The sight of Castiel’s arms in rope had Dean purring. He wanted to rub his face against the braided pattern and feel Cas’s hands in his hair. Dean refrained only because he was challenging himself to finish his design before Castiel woke up.

 

Next Dean draped a longer rope behind Castiel’s head and over his shoulders like an untied scarf. He knotted the rope in measured sections over Castiel’s sternum, abs, pelvis, and just above the base of his dick. He then separated the two ends of rope and threaded them around each of Castiel’s thighs. It took a delicate touch to work the rope beneath Cas’s body, but Dean took his time. The rope wove in a criss-cross pattern under Castiel’s back and laced through the line of knots on his torso. When the pattern was completed, Dean braided the extra length into the line of rope at Castiel’s neck. His hands lingered on the knotted end like he couldn’t believe it was over already. He couldn’t wait to take in the full view of his work.

 

Dean crawled to Castiel’s feet and found he couldn’t take his eyes off of his partner. Castiel’s skin created a cream canvas for the dark rope and something about his peaceful expression pulled at Dean’s heart. He looked beautiful. He could stare at him for an hour and then untie him. Cas would never have to know.

 

Or, Dean could make sure Cas would never forget.

 

Gently spreading Castiel’s legs apart, Dean knelt between his partner’s knees. His fingertips tripped up Castiel’s muscled thighs and drummed on his jutting hip bones as he considered his next move. Dean wanted Castiel to feel good, but he didn’t want to startle him either. He licked his lips as he traced the curve of Castiel’s stomach.

 

Dean lowered his face to Castiel’s pelvis and nipped at the knot there. He dragged his tongue to the knot below that, the one fastened against the base of Castiel’s cock, and nibbled at that knot as well. The coarse hairs tickled his nose and Dean breathed in Cas’s scent before taking his flaccid length into his mouth. If Dean had known that Castiel’s smell alone could get him instantly and uncomfortably hard, he might have saved that for later.

 

With a slight grunt of ungratified arousal, Dean tried to ignore his erectio and swallowed around the cool flesh of Castiel’s dick. He looped his fingers through the rope at Castiel’s hips to brace himself and to keep his hands off his own cock. Between his thighs, Dean’s member twitched and leaked with interest. It begged for friction, but Dean was going to deny himself that pleasure until Castiel was the one who provided it.

 

Castiel’s dick did not become immediately hard and Dean did little to nothing to speed up the flow of blood through its length. His tongue lazily caressed the prominent vein and occasionally cleaned a pearl of precum from the slit but, other than that, Dean was content to kneel and just hold Castiel in his mouth.

 

It wasn’t until Castiel tried to stretch in his sleep that he noticed something was different. The first thing Castiel felt was the moist heat between his legs. He canted his hips forward and Dean hollowed out his cheeks to suck him a bit deeper.

 

“Ahh,” Castiel gasped and threw back his head at the sensation. “Deeean.”

 

Dean smiled around his dick before slowly sucking up and off his length. He heard Castiel whimper and his dick grew thicker against his thigh. “You like when I keep you warm, Castiel?”

 

“Yes.” Castiel’s breath came in sighs of pleasure as Dean took him back into his mouth. Dean sucked gently, teasing just enough to coax his dick to life. Cas bucked his hips again and seemed to be enjoying himself until he lifted an arm to reach for Dean. “Dean?” His heart pounded faster when he felt the tug of rope on his wrist and neck.

 

Dean understood the change in his voice. “Shh. You’re OK, Cas.” Dean stroked his leg and cradled his dick in his palm, careful not to let it drag against the rope. Supple as it was, it still felt strange against the sensitive genital flesh and Dean didn’t want to over stimulate his partner. “You can move. You can twist. It’s all right.”

 

Castiel’s eyes flew open and he looked down at his body. He brought his arms over his head and touched the ropes at his ribs. Dean was right. He could move. He wasn’t tied down, but he was tied. “Dean?”

 

“Lay back. Breathe.” Dean kissed Castiel beside each of the knots he had tied, slowly making his way to Castiel’s lips. “Are you OK?”

 

Castiel hesitated before nodding.

 

Dean returned Castiel’s arms above his head and held them down as he pressed feather-light kisses over his ticklish biceps. Castiel’s breath quickened in his ear.

 

Dean continued the trail of kisses until they reached the rope at Castiel’s neck. “You are so beautiful, baby.” He ran his fingers over the rope, his tongue dragged behind, and tugged at the knot between Castiel’s pectorals. “Feel me, Cas?” Dean whispered devilishly into the wet skin at his clavicle. “Feel my rope?”

 

Castiel’s heart was still beating fast, but it no longer felt like panic. Dean raised his head at Castiel’s silence and their eyes locked. Energy crackled between them like static as the saliva trails cooled on Cas’s skin.

 

The more Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes, the more he wanted Dean to get on with it, put his lips around his dick and relieve its lustful ache. His skin tingled and itched under the rope, making him squirm under Dean’s weight as the man straddled his hips. “I want to feel you, Dean.” He thrust upwards and felt Dean’s cock bounce against his stomach.

 

As Dean’s dick rubbed against the rope, it drooled another thick line over Castiel’s abdomen. He gave a breathless cry and crooked his fingers under the knot at the center of Castiel’s chest. He dragged Castiel’s shoulders up off the bed and lifted him until their mouths met in a passionate kiss. They breathed heavily through their nostrils and Castiel groaned. His arms still over his head caused a sweet stretch in his shoulders that added a new layer of sensation to their play.

 

Carefully, Dean lowered Castiel back onto the pillows and smiled against his lips. “Feel how I’ve got you safe. Feel how I hold you so tight and secure.” Dean pressed another kiss to his mouth before bringing his knees back to the empty space between Castiel’s legs. He allowed his cock to drag over Castiel’s skin as he moved down his body. The feel of it sent shivers up his legs until his knees were weak.

 

Once settled in position, he grabbed at the line of rope down Cas’s middle, “I’ve got you. Now. Tell me how to please you.”

 

“Dean.” Castiel moaned as the rope dug into the muscles of his back, tightened around his ribs.

 

“You’re in control, Castiel.” Dean hoped it would be easier for Castiel like this. Baby steps until he felt comfortable enough to let Dean take over for a while. “Tell me what to do.”

 

Castiel saw Dean look up at him, eagerly waiting for direction, and a bolt of pleasure coursed through his dick with a spasm. He didn’t take his eyes off of Dean, but he was sure he was staining the comforter with all the precum he had released. “Go back over your knots, Dean.” His voice was rough, deeper than usual, and laced with sleep and lust. “Make sure they are perfect.”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Dean did as he was told and carefully retraced his work.

 

When he was satisfied that all knots were secure, Castiel drew in a shaky breath. “Do you have more rope?” Dean could tell Cas was trying to sound calm and in control, but the tremble in his voice gave away his hesitation.

 

“Yes, Sir.” Dean held out a few options so his Dominant could choose.

 

“Black.” Castiel said with more confidence. “Lift my thighs to my chest. Secure them.”

 

Dean knew that with Cas in such a position, his ass would be on prominent display. His breath caught in his chest as he thought about why Cas may want him to have that kind of access. “Yes, Sir.”

 

This time, as Dean wrapped his partner in rope, Castiel’s eyes were on him through it all. A thrill turned behind Dean’s ribs as he caught Castiel’s blue gaze.

 

With a blush, he quickly brought his eyes back to the knot he was tying. He reminded himself that although he was doing the tying, he was still trying to give Castiel his control as Dominant – and that meant, no eye contact unless otherwise specified.

 

Dean wrapped each thigh in a pattern of black lines and fastened them to the purple rope under Castiel’s ribs. He kept the legs spread apart so that he would still be able to reach his Dom’s dick without obstruction. “Sir?”

 

Castiel wiggled a bit, struggling against the ties. “Good boy. Suck me good and hard, Dean. And when I tell you to stop – stop.”

 

Dean got right to work. His mouth moved over Castiel’s cock until it was slick with spit and precome. Dean brought his hand to jerk him at the same time, but Castiel squawked.

 

“Hands at the ropes on my hips.” He waited for Dean to comply. “Good. Don’t move your hands from their place.”

 

It was more difficult to maneuver Castiel’s dick into his mouth without the aid of his hands, but Dean managed to take the tip between his lips after some minor fumbling. He was more careful as he bobbed his head up and down, not allowing Castiel’s cock to escape.

 

“Aah, Dean. Good, Dean. Yes, Dean.”

 

Dean loved the sounds that Castiel was making. He was usually pretty quiet, but with his dick dribbling into Dean’s mouth, Cas couldn’t help but cry out.

 

Dean could tell Cas was getting close. His balls were tighter and his dick pulsed deliciously on Dean’s tongue. Despite the numbness in his jaw and the ache in his neck, Dean moved faster.

 

Castiel moaned and shuddered before he yelled, “Stop!”

 

Dean could hear him panting and wanted to finish him off. He knew it wouldn’t take much, but he followed his Dom’s directions.

 

“Do you know how to find my prostate?”

 

Dean nodded before he realized that Castiel probably couldn’t see over his bound legs. “Yes, Sir.” Dean knew what a prostate was, had found it on himself a few times. He figured he could work a finger or two into Cas and even if he didn’t find the perfect spot, Cas would probably come into his mouth before he could complain.

 

“Good boy. Use it to make me come without touching my dick.”

 

_Fuck._ Dean really hoped he could do this right. He grabbed the lube from his bag and generously applied it to his fingers. His fingers shook a little as he lifted them to Castiel’s hole and Dean had to remind himself that there was nothing to be nervous about. This wasn’t a test he could fail.

 

He gave soft pressure to the pucker of Castiel’s ass and listened to his Dom groan for it. Cas wasn’t begging, not yet, but Dean could barely keep his hands off his own dick at the sound.

 

The tip of his finger slipped in easily to the first knuckle and Dean twisted it as he pressed in and out of Castiel’s hole. Castiel’s breathing came harder and Dean wanted to console him, kiss his thighs and stroke his dick to distract him from the sting of being stretched open. Instead, he followed Castiel’s directions to the ‘T’.

 

“More, Dean. The entire finger now. In and out. In. Hold it there. Twist. Out. Slowly. In and out. In and out. Now, a little faster. I’m ready for another finger. Can you feel it? In and out. That’s it, boy. Doing so good for me. In and out.”

 

Listening to Castiel give direction like this, feeling his asshole spasm around his fingers, almost gave Dean the illusion that he was fingering himself for Castiel’s pleasure. Dean could feel his own ass clench and his dick weep for the burn of Castiel prepping him for sex.

 

Castiel moaned and Dean moaned with him. He worked two fingers into Castiel’s ass, keeping them straight until Castiel told him to do something different.

 

“Curl your fingers, Dean. Deeper, boy. More. Right th- Aah!” Castiel ground his hips down toward Dean until he buried the fingers as far as they could go. “Come on, Dean. Right there.”

 

Dean finally brushed over the spot and Castiel could no longer speak. Gasping and grunting, Castiel fucked himself on Dean’s fingers until he gave a strangled cry and shook apart.

 

He stopped breathing at his release. Come pooled in and around his belly button as his body trembled. “Come for me,” he said quietly, his body still working through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Then, louder. “Come for me, Dean.”

 

Dean lifted himself to his knees and pressed his thighs against Castiel’s upturned ass. As he thrust into his fist and rocked against Castiel’s body, he could imagine he was balls deep inside Cas. His hand and hips worked in sync and quickly brought him to the edge, but Dean wasn’t sure if he was really supposed to shoot his load on his Dom. “Sir?” His hips stuttered and Dean gripped the base of his dick hard.

 

“On me, Dean. Come.”

 

He couldn’t believe that was the command he received, that Castiel wanted to be marked, claimed by Dean’s seed.  All it took was two more pumps of his fist and Dean was spilling his load across Castiel’s chest.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex stuff: cock-warming, dub-con, rope bondage/ shibari-ish, coming untouched, blow-job, anal fingering, milking prostate
> 
> Dub Con Warning: Dean ties Cas while Cas is sleeping and does not receive consent until after Cas has woken up. Is that non-con? It might be, but Cas is pretty cool with it after a brief confusion. 
> 
> Dean does not tie Cas down. Cas has near full mobility and is wrapped in rope around his arms individually and then his body separately. His legs are not bound until he expressly tells Dean to do so.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas likes rope. More contract revisions. Trouble at Cas's office. Dean is a sweetheart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end note.

Dean ran a small cloth under the tap, squeezing out the excess water before bringing it to the bedroom. Castiel blinked up at him with a sated expression as Dean wiped his stomach clean. Dean’s hand slipped beneath the rope, careful not to rub too hard over the red marks and removed the evidence of their pleasures. 

“Dean?” Castiel spoke as he stilled his lover’s hand.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean looked down at him with adoration in his eyes. He laced their fingers together.

Cas arched back in a stretch, letting out a low hiss as the ropes tightened around him. “Come to bed.”

Dean plucked at the knots to loosen them before reaching for the braid at Cas’s neck. “Going in to work early,” he said, voice tinged with regret, “But I’ll be back this afternoon. Want me to pick you up or meet you at Gabriel’s?”

Castiel gave a noncommittal grunt, eyes heavy with sleep. “Here’s fine.” He wrapped his arms around his sides, seeking warmth as the ropes fell away. As the ropes came off, Castiel felt truly naked and exposed. He dragged the blanket over him and turned onto his belly.

“See you soon.” Dean pushed the hair from Castiel’s forehead before giving him a brief kiss.

As Dean dressed and readied himself for work, Castiel laid quietly. He held himself tighter, missing the feel of Dean’s rope already. He hadn’t known being bound like that could be so grounding, feel so safe. Now that it was gone, Castiel felt vulnerable and alone. He ran his hands over his ribs, sinking the tips of his fingers into the impressions left behind by the rope. He traced Dean’s design until exhaustion took its toll.

When Castiel rose in the early afternoon, he went straight to the mirror. He could feel a pleasant ache in his muscles and thought that maybe there would be some evidence of their play left on his skin, a mark, a bruise, or a rash. There was none. His hands roamed his body as he turned in front of the mirror. They pressed into the tenderest flesh and Castiel mourned the loss of his marks. The marks had been a claim on him, he had been gifted a physical reminder that Dean had chosen him. It didn’t feel right to be without them.

Castiel found the rope coiled with precision in Dean’s bag. He brought it to his face and inhaled the scent of sweat and sex in the fibers. The rope was long enough to wrap around his midsection a few times, but it wasn’t the same. A pathetic imitation of the intricate pattern Dean had created. Castiel frowned at his clumsy attempt and didn’t even bother tying it off. 

When Dean came home Castiel was sitting at the dining room table and on the phone with the office. He scribbled a few words onto his memo pad as he scheduled a meeting with the office’s legal consultant. Dean came up behind him and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, peeking at the paperwork in front of him. Castiel mouthed a greeting and gestured for Dean to take the seat across from him at the table. 

“That will not be a problem…” Castiel assured the caller. “Yes. I will be in tomorrow… Thank you.” Castiel hung up the phone quickly before leaning over the table to kiss Dean’s face. “You must be exhausted.”

“Can’t decide if I should shower or sleep.” Dean said as he stifled a yawn behind his hand. Castiel had created some kind of organized chaos between them. Among the myriad stacks of folders and legal pads, Dean recognized their contract. “Think we still need that?”

Castiel’s answer was a simple, yet forceful, “Yes.” This wasn’t the time for debate, not with Dean half-delirious and stinking like burnt motor oil. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Shower first; sheets on the bed are fresh.”

Dean pushed himself from the table with a groan, took a few steps toward the kitchen, and then turned. “Are you coming?”

Castiel tapped his papers into a neat pile. “I will meet you in the bedroom.”

\--

Castiel waited in the center of the bed, Dean’s bag of toys in his lap. He perused through the assortment of rope, dildos, plugs, rings, handcuffs, a blindfold, and a ball gag. Castiel’s mind wandered as he looked, stirring up memories of his green-eyed submissive on stage being used like he was just another prop. Castiel had never considered that his submissive was anything less than precious, and he wondered how anyone could pack him away for later like so many toys. It made his heart sink to remember Dean had subjected himself to that life for so long.

Castiel took a tight coil of line in this hand and recalled the feel of Dean’s design. At least one good thing had come of Dean’s experience; the man knew what he was doing with rope. He took the braided cord in his hands and began to turn it around his forearm. The light pressure of the line felt secure. It wasn’t as good as when Dean had tied him, but it was better than being without. Castiel wrapped his hand and wrist like a bandage, tucking the knotted ends underneath. It wasn’t pretty, but it held strong like a brace and was easily hidden by his sleeve. He pulled the cuff of his sweatshirt down over his knuckles before Dean returned. Drawing up the blankets around him for a nap, Castiel dropped Dean’s bag onto the floor. 

When Dean climbed in behind him, his arms wrapped around Castiel and his forehead fell between Castiel’s shoulder blades. He was asleep before Castiel could squeeze him back. 

Hours later, Dean woke with hair tickling his nose and turned just in time to sneeze into the pillow. The sudden noise gave Castiel a fright. He jumped in Dean’s arms but Dean didn’t let him go. 

With gentle movements, Dean rolled Cas onto his back and straddled his leg. His eyes were hooded with sleep, but they shone as he gazed into the blue eyes beneath him. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he brought his lips down to Castiel’s cheek. He trailed kisses over his neck, laughing quietly as Castiel moaned. If Dean could only hear one sound for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t choose Zep, ACDC, or the Stones. He would choose Castiel’s voice.

“This OK?” Dean whispered before flicking his tongue along the edge of Cas’s ear.

Castiel nodded and fought his instinct to shield his exposed neck. Dean’s mouth tickled the sensitive skin of his throat and Castiel trembled under his touch. 

Dean slipped his hands down Castiel’s arms, held his wrists to the pillow, and took Castiel’s mouth in a deep kiss. The cuff of Castiel’s sweatshirt created an annoying barrier between their hands and Dean tugged his sleeves until they were out of the way. When he grabbed for Castiel’s hands again, Dean flinched at the icy touch of his fingers.

Dean drew himself up and sat back so he could warm Cas properly. But when he brought his hand forward, Dean’s heart thundered in alarm. Castiel’s fingers were turning blue, circulation interrupted by the rope strapped around his arm. 

“Cas! What did you…” Dean moved quickly to free his hand and tossed the rope aside. As he massaged the life and blood back into Cas’s hand, he couldn’t decide if he was angry or just scared. His hands kneaded Castiel’s muscles from his shoulder to his fingertips. Cas cringed as blood returned to his fingers; his skin prickled and ached. 

“I missed you,” Castiel admitted quietly. 

Dean’s eyes locked on his with frenzied worry. He pressed his mouth to the palm of Cas’s hand, kissing it twice before answering. “Don’t do this again, Baby.” His breath was warm as he spoke, but his voice was firm.

Castiel clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze. He wasn’t used to being scolded by anyone, not when he was his biggest critic, not when he was the one to set the rules. It felt strange to succumb under Dean’s control, but it wasn’t awful. Dean didn’t force him into anything and his correction came with concern rather than disapproval. 

“I apologize.” Castiel wondered if Dean would want to discipline him.

Seeing Castiel’s face fall, Dean kissed his palm again. “You liked the rope, Cas?”

Castiel balled his hand into a fist, trying to help the blood move freely. “I liked what you did.”

“I could teach you, but…” Dean hesitated to suggest that Castiel should give up another piece of his control in their relationship. He thought that he had already pushed him pretty far when he tied him as he slept.

“But?” Castiel looked up at his partner, wondering why he had cut himself off.

Dean caressed Castiel’s face and started again. “I’ll teach you to work with the rope, but I’d prefer if I was the only one who tied you.” Dean lifted Cas’s bruised wrist to his chest and held it over his breastplate. “This can never happen again,” his voice wavered and he cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to do this on your own.”

“I understand.” Castiel looked toward the ceiling and Dean could tell something was on his mind.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Castiel said slowly. “Well, yes. We should take a look at the contract.”

Dean sighed; he couldn’t imagine what a mess their contract would become if they tried to account for everything.

“Does it upset you?” Castiel wriggled out from under Dean’s weight and sat against the headboard. His blue eyes went wide. Castiel feared that Dean would fight him on this, but they had already gone too long without making proper adjustments and reinforcing their roles.

Dean hated to see him so nervous. Castiel had been so composed when they first met, though his vulnerability wasn’t a bad thing. Appearing untouchable may look like strength, but Dean learned years ago that it took a lot more bravery and trust to allow oneself to be open about one’s fears.

“No,” Dean assured him. “The contract doesn’t upset me. We can work on it whenever you’re ready.”

\--

At dinner Castiel shared a bit more about his meeting with Mr. Milton and fed Dean from his hand. To Dean, Milton sounded like an asshole, but he kept his thoughts to himself.   
Dean used the time at Castiel’s feet to eat more carefully than ever before, to show his Dom that he could turn on submission even after having a taste of control.

The more Dean listened, the more Milton sounded like a douche and a control freak in all the worst ways. Who schedules a meeting after office hours and demands peripheral staff to attend? Cas wasn’t a lawyer or doctor; how vital could it be that he stick around? 

Instead of arguing the unfairness of it all, Dean offered to take Castiel home afterward. He sucked the last string bean from Cas’s fingers and smiled up at him.

Castiel assessed his grin with a slight cock of his head, as he was prone to do. His hand raked through Dean’s short hair and earned him a soft sigh. “We have to do something about that eye contact, I think.”

Dean dropped his gaze to the floor and felt heat rise under his collar. He couldn’t keep track of how many times he had broken some of Castiel’s most basic rules. Castiel had been right to bring their attention back to the contract. If they were to play like this, their expectations for each other needed to be laid out with clarity. Their contract needed to be up-to-date and thorough. Dean didn’t think either of them knew what merited praise or punishment any longer and so he took the opportunity to speak candidly.

“I like to watch your expression.”

Castiel bent at the waist to take Dean’s mouth in a deep and sudden kiss. His hands pulled at Dean’s collar and scrambled over his body until his sub was up on his lap. Dean smiled against his lips as Castiel folded his arms around his middle.

Dean watched Castiel’s lips to keep himself from looking into his eyes. “What was that for?” 

“Your honesty.” Castiel grabbed a fist of Dean’s ass before giving it a swat. “Clean up dinner while I get the contract ready for revision.”

“Yes, Sir.” Dean slid off his lap slowly, dragging his hands down Cas’s chest and over his thighs in a tease. 

Castiel let out a light chuckle as Dean walked away with their dishes in hand. His boyfriend’s ass taunted him until it disappeared into the kitchen.

\--

The dining room table was covered in loose papers – thank god Castiel had the forethought to label and number them. They had been at revisions for hours, but it didn’t seem that long. Castiel squinted over every line and hummed happily as he toiled away. Dean tapped his red pen against his chin as he outlined his hard limits. Lifting his eyes from their work, Dean could see that Castiel was having fun. His eyes had a spark in them as he compared their notes with the outline. The corner of his mouth twitched upward when he discovered a better way to phrase an article. 

Most of the evening was spent devising their new system. Their old scheduled wouldn’t work anymore. Dean would be working two jobs now, Castiel wanted to visit Anji at least once a week, and there were new kinks to add to their playtime. 

Castiel scanned the paperwork and sat back in his chair. “For this to work, we will need to improve our communication.” 

Dean nodded as he scribbled out the last line of his section on bondage and handed it over to Castiel. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“You agree to punishment, for either of us, as a consequence for dishonesty or not communicating our needs?”

“Of course.” Dean thought back to their nap when he woke to find Castiel’s hand blue with cold. If Cas had told him what he needed, Dean could have tied him properly. Cas’s sloppy work could have easily resulted in serious injury. Communication was key.

\--

Castiel felt terrible knowing that Dean was still waiting in the car. The meeting had run over an hour long, made even worse by Mr. Milton’s shameless flirtations. When the focus is on work, the talk is mostly legal jargon that Castiel can’t follow, but the few phrases he does understand leave a hollow feeling in his stomach. 

The prosecuting attorney found ample evidence of malpractice and the insurance company called for an audit of their charts. Castiel thought back on all the overtime he spent rewriting the doctors’ messy script and filing forms that his medical staff hadn’t bothered to complete. He did his job to the best of his ability, but that doesn’t mean something hadn’t been overlooked. It doesn’t mean he won’t be found to blame. 

Castiel held himself like stone as Mr. Milton prepared them for long nights at the office before the audit. Castiel felt his stomach drop into the expanding hollow, swallowed by the emptiness of dread. All he wanted for his birthday was to relax with his family. Instead he’d spend the next week or so worrying about keeping his job. 

Panic rose up into his throat until it felt like he was drowning. It took all of his strength to keep his face free of emotion. Castiel had long since stopped taking notes and took tentative sips from his glass, but what good was water when he needed air?

As soon as Mr. Milton fastened his briefcase, the others stood from the table. Castiel didn’t dawdle either, excusing himself past his coworkers and rushing toward the exit. 

Castiel damn near barreled into Dean under the eaves. 

Before Cas spoke, Dean could feel something was wrong. It wasn’t like the dragging, soggy feeling of Castiel’s depression. There was urgency in the air, crackling energy that jump-started Dean’s anxiety.

Castiel shoved his hand into Dean’s and pulled him along until they were standing in the dark parking lot. His breathing came in uneven huffs and Dean heard him stutter for the first time, “I-it’s going to f-fall on me. Those idiots screwed up and it is g-going to fall on m-me.” 

His hands grappled with his collar, tugging at his tie but only making it tighter. 

Dean could see he was moments from hyperventilation. Cas gasped and sighed. He looked so fearful and small as he begged Dean, “Help me.”

Dean’s fingers unknotted Castiel’s tie with ease and released the top buttons of his shirt.

Castiel breathed easier with Dean’s hands resting on his shoulders. 

“You’re OK, babe. Can you tell me what happened?”

Castiel shook his head, but sputtered out a few words despite himself. “An audit. It’s too much.”

“Shh,” Dean stroked Castiel’s neck, running his thumbs under his line of stubble. He wasn’t sure what the audit would entail, but it sounded bad. Seeing Castiel so shaken set Dean to action. He wished he could take Cas away from this place to where everything was better. He kissed Castiel’s forehead, “Let’s go home.”

“Can’t.” Castiel leaned back against the Impala. “I have to lock up.” 

Dean helped Cas through a few minutes of breathing exercises until he was ready to face his coworkers again.

“Want me to go with you?” 

Castiel considered it, but went ahead without him. He let Dean know he would be back in a minute.

Dean idled in the lot for a while, and then followed the path up to the building. He hoped to intercept Cas as soon as he came out of the office, ready to make an excuse for him if anyone tried to keep him longer. 

Bored laughter carried through the night. Dean stopped short when he recognized the man with the mirthless smile.

Mr. Milton saw him freeze and his lips parted in delight. He ended his conversation and placed his cell into the clip at his belt. “My, my, my. Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Dean’s chest burned and he was sure he had forgotten how to breathe. 

It didn’t used to be like this. Seeing clients outside the club used to be easier. Dean had grown accustomed to dealing with men and women who recognized him. But that was when the club was his profession. When he was regularly onstage or hanging around the club, Dean had been prepared for this sort of thing. He had at least expected to run into someone every now and then. Now, with the stage life so far from memory, Dean had been found with his guard down.

Zachariah approached him with a confidence that Dean couldn’t fake. 

Dean clenched his hands at his sides, readying himself for the familiar way so many patrons touched when they thought they could get away with it.

Dean stood his ground as Zachariah’s clammy hand predictably cupped his cheek. The pad of his thumb swiped over his bottom lip. Dean took a step back, but Zachariah moved with him. He tried to turn his head, but Zachariah’s hand held tighter.

Dean knew he should say something, do something. But he was afraid. Afraid of making a scene, afraid of drawing the attention of Cas’s coworkers as they left the office. 

A small crowd came out of the building and down the sidewalk. Zachariah released Dean’s face and nodded to the others as they went off to find their cars. He dropped his voice in a greasy whisper, “Would’ve done such things to that mouth.”

Dean heard the sound of keys and glanced over Zachariah’s shoulder to see Castiel testing the door. 

Zachariah followed his gaze. “So that’s the reason you’ve been so forgetful.” He spoke softly and Dean leaned in, instinctively needing to hear every last word. “Don’t forget me. One day he will tire of you. You’ll remember me then and I will be waiting.”

Dean felt sick. He knew some of the club’s patrons had constructed elaborate fantasies about the performers. Hell, he knew that Castiel had imagined Dean belonging to him long before they had met. It was part of the appeal of the club. But no one had ever made him as uncomfortable as Dean felt in this moment. 

Castiel caught Dean’s arm as he passed, apparently not sensing anything amiss, and led Dean back to the parking lot. He hadn’t even acknowledged Zachariah’s mocking, “Goodnight, boys.”

Despite Dean’s numerous attempts to break through to Cas, he was silent the whole ride home. Dean drove his usual route – the longer route, the one that avoided Bar A – and found parking in front of Ambrosia. His eyes lingered on the dark storefront. 

When Dean cut the engine, he noticed Castiel had made no move to exit. 

“You have history with Zachariah Milton,” he said finally.

“History?” Dean shook his head, “Cas, no.”

“Dean, stop.” Castiel stared blankly ahead. “I am not ignorant, nor am I blind. We’ve talked about honesty. Please don’t condescend to lie to me about this.”

“I’m trying to tell you. Zachariah was a private client of mine. He once hired me as a houseboy, but I never made it past his driveway. He’s a manipulator. He gets a kick out of putting me in uncomfortable positions to see what I’ll do.”

“He is bad news, Dean.”

“I agree.”

“I’m sorry. When he came in tonight I thought I recognized him from the club. I could have given you warning, but I was… distracted.”

“Distracted? Cas, you’re under a ton of pressure at work. Don’t blame yourself that I got a little tongue-tied in front of the jerk.”

“…I could lose my job.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Cas.”

There was a long pause where neither knew just what to say. 

Dean’s hand moved across the bench and squeezed Castiel’s thigh. He felt the tension in the muscle and knew that even though he couldn’t fix things with Cas’s work, couldn’t find words to make it all better, he could do something to help Cas relax.

“Come inside, Baby. Let me take care of you tonight.” Dean’s hold on Cas was solid, but he was only testing the waters. If Cas said ‘no,’ said he wasn’t interested in giving Dean control, Dean would submit to him in whatever way he needed.

Castiel turned to him slowly, looking more lost and scared than Dean had ever seen him. “I feel like…” Castiel shuddered and swallowed hard. He couldn’t describe how he felt untethered, like he could just drift away, like Dean’s hand on his leg was the only thing rooting him to the present. 

Dean shifted in the driver’s seat and Castiel took in a sharp breath. “Don’t let go.” His hand covered Dean’s and pressed into the meat of his thigh.

“I’ve got you, Baby.” Dean said with care and gave his leg a hard squeeze to underline his point. “Take off your tie and hand it to me.”

Dean accepted the strip of fabric and circled it once around Castiel’s elbow. He created a criss-cross pattern down his partner’s arm and over his wrist. The knots were simple, but tighter than Dean had used on Cas before. When he was done, Dean held the arm securely in his hands and checked in with Cas. “Let’s go inside now.” 

An unspoken promise passed between them and Dean released Castiel’s arm. 

Castiel clutched his bound wrist against his body and met Dean at the front door. He stared at the narrow piece of silk and wondered how such a small thing could possibly help, but it did. Like an extension of Dean, like an extra hand, it held him in place.

Dean took even breaths, trying to emulate the calm confidence that Castiel had demonstrated while practicing his Dominance. With a simple suggestion, Dean was able to coax Castiel into the apartment and through to the bedroom. 

Once in the bedroom, Castiel stood awkwardly near the bed. Dean’s duffel bag lay open at his feet, but he waited for his partner to make the first move. 

Castiel didn’t want to be in control tonight. He didn’t want to think – not about work or family or anything else. He wanted someone else to make the decisions, to be held accountable. 

For the first time in a long time, Castiel felt like he could trust someone else to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Castiel binds his own hand badly - no lasting damage or serious injury results.   
> Zachariah is a sleaze.  
> Castiel struggles with some anxiety.
> 
>  
> 
> Stay tuned! Next chapter we get to see how Dean decides to take care of Cas in the bedroom.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wraps Castiel something special. Cas's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for rope bondage and blindfold.
> 
> *::**::**::*
> 
> After an excruciating and exhausting week at work and home, I was grateful for every second I was able to escape into this chapter (this world). I thank you all so very much for your kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions. The positive responses you've given mean a great deal to me. Every email alert this week brought me a much needed boost. Thanks again. (#^.^#)

Dean stripped Castiel of his clothes, but didn’t waste time admiring his body. Despite the temperate condition of the room, his skin had broken out with goose bumps. Cas was shivering before his clothes were in the laundry basket. 

Seeing Cas trying not to shake, and failing miserably, Dean hesitated.

Castiel had always enforced that the submissive’s health and safety were paramount, but Dean didn’t know how to provide those things in this situation. Castiel wanted to be bound, skin to rope, but did he want that at the expense of his own comfort and warmth?

Dean decided to just go for it, give Cas what he said he wanted.

“Turn around,” Dean spoke clearly and calmly as he dug around in his bag of tricks. The purple rope needed to be washed and treated. It was too short for what he was planning anyway, so Dean tossed it with the laundry. He reached deeper into the duffel to find the thick coil of bleached hemp.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Dean let the line out and the ends fell to the floor with a heavy sound. Stretching the rope between his hands, he laid the grey point just below Castiel’s ribs. He found the midpoint quickly as it was marked with a grey stripe. “Keep this here.”

With a quivering touch, Castiel held the rope in place. Dean could see he was favoring his unbound hand and checked the tie to make sure it wasn’t too tight. 

“Please…” Castiel’s chattering teeth interrupted his whisper, “leave it on.”

Dean nodded and supported Castiel’s hold on the cord with his own hands, but only for a moment. “Do not drop it.”

In reality, Dean knew it didn’t matter whether or not the grey mark was directly over his subject’s sternum. However, Castiel’s directions as a Dominant had always been precise, even when all he was telling Dean to do was hold position. He tried to hold himself to the same standard. He wanted to be good at this, good for Cas.

As Castiel kept the rope steady, Dean wrapped him like a spool of ribbon. It was a simple binding, but Dean took his time. He was careful to wind the rope without dragging it across Cas’s skin. The hemp was rougher than the purple cord and he didn’t want to leave Castiel with a rash. 

His binding covered Cas from his underarms to his waist, one loop against the next. Dean tested the rope as he went, making sure the tension and pressure were just right. With simple knots, Dean secured the ends. He tugged at his work once more. 

Taking the centermost line in his fist, Dean curled his fingers around the demarcated section. He brought Castiel forward until they stood eye to eye. “What is your safe-word, Cas?”

“Stop,” Cas spoke with a gasp.

Dean froze, his bow creased in lines of concern. Had he done something wrong? Had he hurt his partner in some way? 

Dean quickly surveyed Cas for any signs of discomfort. Castiel’s breathing was still haggard, but it had slowed considerably. His expression was calmer than it has been all night. And his shivering came sporadically instead of constantly. 

“Cas?”

“My safe-word is ‘Stop’.”

Dean sighed, understanding. “Are you calling it out?” His hand turned with a soft touch to Castiel’s chest. His skin was warm beneath the rope.

“No.”

Castiel didn’t call him ‘Sir’ and Dean was ambivalent about putting that responsibility on his Dom-now-sub. It wasn’t a stipulation outlined in their new contract during bondage play, but Dean still wondered if it was something Castiel would prefer. Then again, if Cas wanted to address Dean as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ or even ‘Mr. Winchester,’ he could easily do so without direction.

Dean’s lips just brushed Castiel’s mouth before he put some distance between them. 

He raked his fingers over Castiel’s bindings, plucking each row like the strings of a guitar.

Castiel’s eyes fluttered closed and he breathed into the tiny vibrations as Dean played. His chest expanded on each inhale and the cord held firm. With every exhale, the tension gradually faded until Castiel was breathing in again. 

To be embraced by Dean’s rope felt unlike anything Cas had experienced before. There was security and stability in Dean’s work. It was wonderful, though Cas would have preferred to feel even more restriction. However, even with the bindings as they were Cas could hear the ropes rub and stretch against each other at the smallest movement. 

Finally finding a space of peace, Castiel relaxed. He swayed forward just a few degrees and felt Dean’s hands return him to his position.

From personal practice, Dean could tell Castiel was slipping into the floating dream-world of being bound. 

Castiel’s physical reaction to the rope spoke volumes of just how deeply he trusted Dean. All the words of adoration and praise Castiel had repeated to Dean were nothing compared to actually seeing Cas let go.

Gently, Dean maneuvered Castiel to the bed. Pleased to see Castiel’s eyes remained shut, Dean kissed his partner’s wrists and eyelids. “That’s it, Baby. Just breathe. Let go for me.”

Dean laid Cas on his side and propped his head and neck on a pillow. He bent Castiel’s legs and tucked them to his belly. The arrangement balanced his weight so Dean could bring Cas’s arms behind his back with minimal discomfort.

By the time Dean stepped back to admire with work, Castiel was held securely in the pose of Dean’s choosing. The only parts of his subject’s body left untouched by rope were his head and neck. 

Dean rolled Castiel carefully to his other side, adjusting the cord as he went. 

Dean didn’t keep Castiel in one position for long, choosing instead to wrap and unwrap, tie and untie to his heart’s content. The few constants he gave Castiel were the neck tie, still strapped from his elbow to his thumb, and the thick line of hemp around his torso.

Resting motionless on the bed, Castiel appeared in a tranquil sleep. The only indication he gave of his awareness was a low hum of contentment. His voice rose and fell with Dean’s touches. 

As he changed designs, Dean rewarded his subject with soft words of praise and generous kisses. When Dean thought that Cas was sedated enough to manage new bindings over his chest, he began to unwind the hemp.

Castiel’s respiration increased slightly and Dean stroked his neck as he felt for his heart-rate. “I’m here with you, Baby. I’m right here.”

Dean dipped his head down to Castiel’s reddened stomach and spoke into the newly exposed skin. Castiel’s heart quickened, but he wasn’t in any danger. Excited but safe. Dean drew his hand away from Cas’s neck and removed the last of the rope from his ribs. 

“Please…” Castiel’s hum and turned to a whimper.

“Not done with you, Baby.” Dean draped his body over Cas, covering him nose to toes. He pressed Castiel’s shoulders into the mattress as he kissed his lips. 

Dean’s mouth moved over Castiel’s jaw and neck as his thoughts drifted to the contents of his duffel.

He couldn’t remember if he had the materials needed for the next pattern he had planned. He’d need to leave Castiel for a few minutes as he searched, but the way Castiel clutched the sheets beneath him had Dean worried. He didn’t want to leave Castiel unattended for any stretch of time.

“Cas,” Dean caged him between his hands and knees. “Hold onto the headboard.”

Dean guided his arms until each hand was wrapped around a rung. “Got it good?” He pulled at Castiel’s wrists, satisfied when the grip was secure. “Don’t move.” 

Dean climbed off the bed and saw Castiel’s face wrinkle and contort. He forced his eyes closed and Dean knew he was trying to block out more than lamp light. A small sound of impatience escaped his throat before he clamped his mouth shut.

Dean upended his bad on the carpet and found a pair of metal rings that would serve his purpose. Most of his rope collection was already in small piles on the bed, so Dean only needed to grab the rings and a blind fold. 

Castiel felt the mattress give as Dean returned and he breathed a bit easier. It seemed just having Dean near again saved him from working himself into a panic. 

Dean placed the blindfold over Castiel’s eyes and cradled his face in his hands. The muscles of Castiel’s face and neck went soft and Dean stroked his thumbs behind Castiel’s ears. “Don’t let go of the rails until I tell you.”

Castiel nodded. His throat sounded dry when he spoke. “OK.”

Dean kissed him and asked, “Would you like a drink of water?”

Castiel wet his lips and shook his head. “No water.” His hands held fast to the headboard above them.

“When I tell you, you are going to release the bars and sit yourself at the edge of the bed. I won’t let you fall, but you are going to do it yourself. Understand?”

Castiel nodded.

“Tell me you understand.”

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “I understand.”

Dean laid the rings on Castiel’s stomach and watched the muscles twitched when the cool metal landed on his skin. 

“These rings are going to help me hold your restraints in place. Tell me when they reach your body temperature. I will be right beside you the whole time.”

Dean sat with his leg pressed against Castiel’s side so he knew Dean hadn’t left. He had work to do even before the rope would touch Cas’s body. Dean took six, long strands of rope into his lap and began to braid.

“They are at temperature.” Castiel eventually spoke into the silence.

Dean reached out and turned the rings so the other side now warmed against Cas. Dean had a few more knots to secure before he could work on Castiel. 

Cas was being so obedient and was much more in control of his breathing and body now that he was lying down and blindfolded. Dean told himself he needed to ask Castiel what helped him most during the session so that he could use it again.

“I’m so proud of you,” Dean said as he untangled the trailing ends of the braid. Dean laid his design vertically on the bed next to Castiel and separated the 12 lines – 6 coming out of the top and 6 from the bottom. He would bind Castiel with the piece, creating a second spine of woven silk and nylon. 

“How are the rings?”

“Good,” Castiel spoke clearer than before. Dean could tell he was coming out of the daydream, but he wasn’t panicking like before. 

“Are you ready?” Dean took the rings in his hand and tapped Cas’s wrists. “Sit up.”

Castiel did as he was told, moving hesitantly as he was still without sight.

“Perfect,” Dean said, placing his hand on the small of Castiel’s back. 

Cas gripped the edge of the mattress until his fingers ached. Dean had him leaning forward and he felt like he would fall. “Dean,” he cried out before his feet felt the carpet.

“I’m right here.” Dean held Cas with one hand while the other pulled the prepared braid closer. 

Dean draped a pair of cords over Castiel’s left shoulder and then did the same to the right. He threaded their ends through one of the metal rings and pressed the circle against Castiel’s chest. “Hold this. Like before.”

With a dozen lines of rope, Dean created a web over Castiel’s skin. His hands worked slowly as he finished off the last of his knots. He again helped Cas to lie down.

Feeling Dean release his arm, Castiel shuddered involuntarily. “Tighter, Dean.” His voice was thick, but he sounded small. “I’ll slip away.”

“No, Cas. No, Baby.” Dean straddled his partner, settling his weight against his hips. He tugged on the ring where all the rope came together. “I’ve got you.”

“You have me,” Castiel agreed, but the line of his mouth revealed his uncertainty.

Dean pushed the blindfold up and off his face. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, staring into the blue depths of Castiel’s eyes. 

Castiel’s throat jumped as he swallowed. He stared back at Dean with matched intensity. “You have me.” 

\--

Gabriel trudged through his home in the zombified state that only new parents could understand. Coffee was something for which Gabriel had never acquired a taste, so he relied heavily on the energy he could siphon from cans of soda and fruit-flavored sugar dust. 

He was never one for cleaning either, but here he was tidying the living room. No, not at the bequest of his darling, exhausted wife, but because Dean Winchester said so. What was the world coming to?

It was Castiel’s birthday and Dean had invited the whole family together. Not that his rat-bastard brothers had bothered to come. But Gabriel felt that Dean was planning something special. Little black box special. Down on one knee special. It made him giddy to know Dean wanted the family to be a part of it.

Dean arrived in the early evening with a nervous smile and grocery bags in his arms. Gabriel thrilled as he noted the absence of birthday gift. He grinned maniacally at the thought that his little brother would soon be engaged. 

“Come in, Dean. Of course, come in.” Gabriel slapped his future brother-in-law hard on the back as he welcomed him through the front door. “Don’t mind the boobs,” he said off-handedly as they crossed through the living room. “Kals doesn’t bother covering up.”

“Breasts are for feeding babies,” she reminded them both with authority. She corrected her daughter’s latch and greeted Dean.

Dean stooped down to kiss her cheeks and tickle Anji’s tiny foot. “Looking lovely as always, Kali.”

The woman laughed, “I’m covered in vomit and haven’t had a proper bath in days. I see through your lies, Winchester.”

Dean gave his winningest smile before heading to the kitchen.

Gabriel was already setting out the groceries for their barbeque. 

“Cas won’t leave the office until six,” Dean explained, “but still he bitches about taking a ‘half-day’.”

“Audit still happening?” It looked like Dean had bought enough to feed ten people. 

“It will be. In a week or so.” Dean leaned heavily on the table, “I’ll be happy when it’s over – one way or the other.”

Gabriel nodded along, finding it hard to follow anything but the simplest sentences in his sleep-deprived haze. He refrigerated the last of the groceries and made a show out of looking into the empty bags. 

“Didn’t you bring a gift?” He thought he was being quite sly.

Dean smiled and patted the breast pocket of his jacket.

Gabriel giggled a little and Dean looked at him like he had grown another head.

At half-past five Gabriel left Dean to tend to dinner while he went to liberate his brother from the office. 

Castiel arrived while Dean was flipping burgers on the deck. He slipped an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and took a long drink from Dean’s beer. They finished off the bottle before greeting each other with an ale flavored kiss. 

Knowing Cas had had a long day, Dean took him gently in his arms. “Almost done here,” he said, lowering the grill’s flame. “You want your first gift?”

Castiel narrowed his gaze in suspicion, “ _First_ gift?”

Winking, Dean pointed to a gift bag on the picnic table. 

Castiel pushed aside the tacky colored tissue paper and pulled out his gift. At first he thought it was a scarf or a blanket, but the fabric just kept coming – yard after yard of soft cloth. He had to bundle it up to keep it from dragging on the ground. “Um. Thank you?”

Castiel wore such an adorable look of confusion that Dean couldn’t keep a straight face. “Bring it over. I’ll help you put it on.”

“Oh,” Castiel turned the gift in his hands, “You got me a sari?”

With an amused shake of his head, Dean took the fabric from Castiel. “It’s a baby wrap.” 

Castiel didn’t understand.

“Here, stand still.” Dean arranged the fabric around Castiel’s belly, behind his back, over his shoulders, and around his waist again. He tied it off just below Castiel’s belt buckle.

Looking down at himself, Castiel grimaced. He usually didn’t care much about fashion, but the shirt was beyond weird. “Now what?”

“Why don’t you give Kali a break for a while? Go get your niece and I’ll show you what that wrap is for.” Dean sent Cas inside with a peck on the lips and a pinch on his ass.

Castiel loved having Anji so close. He bounced her around the house and held her securely within the folds of the wrap. 

Dean watched as Castiel smothered his niece with cuddles and love. So much love. Gabriel would swear Dean got a little misty-eyed whenever Cassie looked down at Anji.

The closer they came to dessert, the antsier Gabriel became. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Dean’s pocket nor keep the smile off his face. 

They were taking their dessert in the living room when Dean reached into his pocked and pulled out a small package.

Gabriel nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Uh. This is your second gift.” Dean fumbled the box between his hands as he spoke. “Cas, I know we’ve moved our relationship along much faster than we planned. And, uh, we’ve spent a lot of time together… I just wanted to give you something to remind you that we never have to spend another night apart. I mean, if that’s what you want.” 

His hand shook as he extended the box to his boyfriend.

Cas’s eyes went wide and he found it hard to speak. “Dean, I- I don’t…” 

“Dude,” Gabriel interrupted without tact. “If you’re gonna give my brother a little square box, you best be on one knee.”

Kali gasped, finally tuning in, and looked expectantly between Dean and Castiel.

Castiel’s expression turned hard. There was a hint of – not anger – sadness, maybe. Gabriel had seen that look from Cassie when he was about to break bad news to someone. 

Gabe covered his mouth to hide that it had come unhinged. Was Castiel going to reject the proposal? Seriously? Didn’t his little brother have any sense in his thick skull?

Castiel stood without a word and walked out of the room. The joy of the evening left the room when he did.

Suddenly, Dean’s eyes were on Gabe, all fury and flames of accusation, “Dammit, Gabe.”

“Wha-… sorry, man.” 

Dean followed Cas outside and left Kali to deal with her husband.

Kali gave a sympathetic frown as she lifted their baby to her shoulder. Her hand moved in soft circles, soothing their daughter as she cried.

Gabriel shrugged. “He should’ve taken a knee.”

His wife shook her head and let out a soft _hmph_ , “Seemed like he was doing just find on his own, honey.”

 

On the porch, Castiel sat with his head in his hands. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to accept the proposal. Dean was it for him, Cas was sure of that. But they had only really gotten to know each other in the past month! 

Castiel took a deep breath and pulled on the fabric at his shoulder. The wrap hugged him tighter and he let out a small huff of amusement. He twisted the supple cloth between his fingers in awe of such a perfect gift. Of course Dean was it for him. He was the only one who really ‘got’ him. And in such a short time, too.

Castiel rubbed at his eyes and looked up at the stars. He heard the sound of the sliding glass door open and close with a swish.

“Cas? You OK?”

“Yes.” Castiel said, surprised by the word on his lips. He turned toward Dean with a small smile, but Dean didn’t smile back. Castiel found himself tugging harder at the wrap, drawing it in until it pinched his ribs. “Dean?”

Dean held out his hand with the box in his palm. It was wrapped in brown paper and finished with twine. It looked very _Dean_ and Cas already liked it. “Open it. Please.”

Castiel took the box into his hands and played with the intricate knot. It was prettier than any bow of ribbon; his fingers hesitated to pull the string and destroy it. Voice wavering, Castiel asked, “What’s in the box, Dean?”

Dean sighed and sat on the bench beside him. “Relax, dude. It’s a key.“

Castiel made a face, “To your heart?”

A burst of laughter caught them both by surprise. “Uh, no. To my apartment.” 

Dean helped Castiel remove the string so that the knot stayed intact. “I know you’re not going to give up your house or anything… And I’m not asking you to move in. Just… I want you to feel at home at my place.” 

Castiel’s face broke into a wide smile, all gums and teeth and wrinkles where his eyes should be. “It’s perfect,” he said, taking the key between his fingers. “Here, help me put it on.”

Dean shook his head as he slipped the key ring over Castiel’s fourth finger.

Cas turned his hand and admired the slip of aluminum. He laughed as it caught the light from the kitchen. “Gabriel is an idiot.”

“You’re not _just_ figuring that out, right?” Dean chuckled.

\--

Castiel was quiet as they readied themselves for bed. 

At first, Dean thought it was just another sign of him being preoccupied with thoughts of work, but when he saw Cas was still holding the apartment key, Dean became concerned. 

“Cas? What’s up, man?” Dean crawled into bed next to him and placed a hand on his knee. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel shook his head embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to _freak out_ before. It’s just that, one day, maybe, if we ever get to that point… I thought I would be the one presenting you with a little box.”

“You thinking about little boxes, Cas?”

“ _One day_. If it feels right.”

Dean smiled, “You know what I was thinking today? When you were kangaroo-ing around with Anji in your pouch?”

“No.” Castiel admitted, but he was curious. “What were you thinking?”

“I thought I was happy.” Dean squeezed Castiel’s knee and gazed into his eyes. “I _am_ happy.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas struggles with work (complicated by his depression) and Dean struggles with Cas (complicated by, you guessed it, Cas's depression).  
> They go on a zombie run.  
> Dean considers full-time cohabitation.

“Wait… so you run five miles each morning? Like, _run_ , not walk?” Sam sounded incredulous, like this wasn’t the hundredth time he asked Dean about his foray into the world of exercise. Dean wished he could see his brother’s smirk. It had been too long since they had seen each other in person. Their phone calls were nice, but no comparison to the real thing.

“Shut your face, bitch. I’m awesome,” Dean reminded. Since Castiel had been keeping hellish hours at the office, Dean found time to speak to Sam daily. He knew all about his brother’s beau, Jessica, another smarty determined to make it in a predominantly male field. It was clear that Sam took their relationship seriously, which only left him wide-open for his older brother’s loving ridicule. 

Sam took it in stride and Dean vented to him about his own relationship with Cas. It was one thing to kneel in front of Castiel during downtime and express his concerns while keeping composed, but having a little brother to help him sort out his shit was incredibly helpful. It was a relief to both of them when Dean finally stopped bottling everything up.  
Sam understood Dean in ways that Cas couldn’t, not yet at least. When something was truly bothering his brother, Sam helped him ferret out the source. Likewise, he would bring Dean back to reality when he was overreacting. 

Sam’s laughter carried over the speaker, “Surprised you can keep up, Jerk.”

Dean explained his strategy while looking for street parking, “I basically just terrify myself into thinking there’s an infected horde chasing us.”

“I guess the undead can be quite motivating. I think there’s an app for that.”

“I think there’s an app for that,” Dean parroted back, imitating his brother.

“So when is your zombie race anyway?”

Dean pulled the Impala into a space at the end of the block. “Next weekend.”

“Cas excited?” Sam was caught up and fully aware of Castiel’s struggle with work and depression. After Cas’s birthday Dean had given him an earful. Gabriel’s assumption that Dean was proposing had put Cas in a weird headspace. Dean was grateful to have someone to talk to. Even though Dean couldn’t give all the details, Sam did his best to be a sounding board.

“I told him we’re going out to the park for a run and a picnic.”

“Aww.”

“Shut up.”

Sam laughed again. “So he’s all prepared for a relaxing jog and checkered blanket lunch date, and you’re going to throw him into a post-apocalyptic nightmare. So romantic.”

“Dude, he has no delusions about who I am. This is as romantic as I get.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. Where’s he at now?”

“Ugh, work. Friggen sucks. The only times I really get with him are our runs and sleeping.” Dean idled in the car for a minute, not quite in a rush to get to his second job. 

“That must be hard.”

“I guess. The audit was shit, but nobody lost their job over it. Now he’s tasked with brining everything up to code, or whatever they call it. Few more long nights and things should go back to normal.”

“And things at the candy store?”

“Eh, it’s not that bad.” Dean knows Sam is asking about more than the business aspect, but he needs to keep the conversation light. He doesn’t get into his personal bullshit with Gabriel. “Gabe pretty much handles most of it. By the time I get here it’s just preparing for the next day and cleaning up.” Dean let himself into the store and waved at Gabriel. “I’m here now, actually. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, alright. Bye, Dean.”

Dean tried not to let his personal issues with Gabriel interfere with business. For the most part, Dean enjoyed working at Ambrosia and his compensation was more than fair. It was only recently that he and Gabriel started butting heads. 

That evening, Gabriel was in an excited mood, talking speedily about the website he’d been working on and the pilot project for online ordering. His plan was to have the bugs worked out before the end of October so they would be ready for the holiday season. Besides there normal fare, Gabriel was experimenting with seasonal and holiday candies, boxes, and baskets. Once the website was ready, he wanted to hire some advertising. It all sounded great, and Dean tried to share in his enthusiasm. For Dean, this was a part-time job, but he understood that for Gabriel it was his livelihood. His wife and daughter’s welfare depended on the success of the store. The website, new products, advertising – it all sounded like a heavy investment for the little shop that was rarely full.  
Dean hoped, for their sakes, that the man knew what he was doing. 

 

Dean helped him create a new menu and was careful about how he voiced his concerns. After Castiel’s birthday-not-proposal things between them had been awkward. After a particularly bad morning at home, Dean had blown up at Gabriel and said some things he probably shouldn’t have. Since then, they didn’t joke as often, tried to limit the sarcasm, and rarely spoke about Dean’s relationship with Castiel. Of course Gabriel asked how his little brother was doing and invited them over to visit the baby, but other than that things were oddly professional. 

Gabriel was teaching Dean his secret to flakey pie crust when Castiel called from work.

“Thank you for calling Ambrosia, where tastiness is next to Godliness.” Gabriel answered the kitchen’s phone with a smile, but his face fell as the caller introduced himself. 

“Oh, hey Cassie.”

Dean stopped what he was doing.

“What’s-. Sure, hold on.” 

Dean hastily wiped his floured hands on his jeans before taking the phone from Gabriel’s outstretched hand. “Sup, babe?”

Castiel’s voice was tired and worn. “Let’s go home, Dean.”

Dean shot a look at Gabriel. He couldn’t just leave. He still had several hours before they would be prepped for the weekend rush. Sure, Gabriel would understand, but Dean also knew that splitting his time between the store and the new baby was hard. It wouldn’t be right to cut out early, sticking Gabriel with double the work.

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded and more was spoken in the name than Dean could bear. 

His stomach twisted as Castiel’s voice broke. “Where are you?”

Castiel let out a long sigh, “Still at the office. I’m exhausted. I think my brain is trying to squeeze out of my eye sockets.”

Dean frowned so he wouldn’t laugh, “What time are you done?”

Another breath of exasperation. Castiel was almost finished with the electronic charting system and was looking forward to calling it a night. He just wanted to crawl into bed with his boyfriend beside him. “I have at least another hour of paperwork. Then I’ll straighten up and head home.”

“Is anyone there with you?” Dean didn’t like the idea of Castiel being alone. He knew Gabriel agreed with him on that.

“No. Meg and the others headed out before I called. I’m alright; I just wish it were the weekend.” Castiel’s fingers clicked over his keyboard as he drew himself up. If he could manage to finish the electronic records tonight, then he could go to sleep with a sense of accomplishment. It was enough to get him focused again.

“Me too, babe.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, relieved at an averted disaster. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll get you.”

“OK.” 

Dean didn’t like the way they ended their conversation, but he couldn’t quite figure out why.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked sincerely. He had already filled the remainder of the pie tins and started the lattice work for the top crusts.

Dean shook his head and dipped his hands in the flour to help. “He’s overworked and overtired. But it’s almost over, I think.”

Gabriel’s held himself stiff beside Dean as they laid strips of dough over the pies. “He’s, um, lucky to have you.” The words came out after some hesitation. “I may have said it before but… yeah.”

Dean furrowed his brow and waited for Gabriel to continue. He was pretty sure this was some kind of apology for post-birthday arguments and awkwardness. And Dean had no intentions of making it any easier for the guy.

“You aren’t, like… I mean, you guys are planning to _you know_ some day?”

“What?” Not an apology after all.

“Tie the knot.”

Dean snorted. It had felt like a long time since there was any knot tying going on between him and Cas. “Yeah, Gabe. We’re ready to tie the knot alright. Hangman’s noose.”

Gabriel winced. In light of everything going on with Cas, Dean realized too late that the joke was in poor taste. Thankfully, Gabriel chose not to dwell on it. “Joke all you want, Dean-o. I see the way you guys look at each other. I hear the way he calls your name.” Gabriel mimicked his brother’s graveled tone, “Dean. Oh, Dean.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean washed his hands under the cool water, “You’re a dick.”

Gabriel shrugged and they shared a smile, easing some of the tension that had lingered between them.

 

Neither Gabriel nor Dean was expecting anyone to come into the shop after closing. Stocking the glass case with fresh confections, they worked quickly. They both had their minds on getting home, so they barely heard the bells jingle over the front door.

Looking up at the sound, Dean’s face blanched. Castiel stood in the entryway, a haggard mess. His hair stuck up like he had been pulling on it; his tie hung lopsided over his wrinkled shirt. There were heavy bags under his eyes and was wearing a blank stare.

“Cas?” Dean nudged Gabriel with his toe and skirted around the counter. He approached his partner slowly, cautioned by his dazed expression. 

Castiel’s eyes came to focus on Dean and they both breathed a bit easier. “I finished earlier than I anticipated.” His words came robotically, monotonous.

Dean moved closer, spoke softly. “We need to talk about this.” He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject with Gabe still in the room, “You promised to call.”

Castiel shrugged like the promise meant nothing, like he couldn’t remember making it. “I had to get out of there.” 

Dean wondered how long Castiel had wandered the streets before finally finding his way to the store. The idea of Cas roaming around the city, mind-adrift, left Dean’s skin crawling with fear. “You said you were OK when we hung up.”

Castiel raised his shoulders again. His mouth stayed in a thin line. 

With a huff, Dean pressed on, “So either something happened between then and now, or you were lying.”

Castiel plucked at the cuff of his sleeve. He didn’t think he had been lying at the time. In honesty, he thought that he would feel better after getting his work out of the way. 

“I need to know I can trust you,” Dean continued. “I think you know exactly why.” He took Cas’s hands in his and held them gently. “Like the other day. I woke up and you were gone.” Dean tried not to sound upset as he relived the shock in memory. He glanced behind him to make sure they were alone. “Decided to go for a run on your own at 3AM?”

Setting his jaw, Castiel mumbled under his breath, “You’re still mad about that.”

“Mad?” Dean didn’t understand how his partner couldn’t see it. “Cas, Baby, I was terrified. You said you’d let me know when you needed me to take care of you. I need to be able to trust your judgment… To be able tot trust that you’ll call any time – every time – you need me.”

Castiel nodded, but it was never that easy. He felt guilty for dragging Dean through this with him and he tried his best to deal on his own. Castiel allowed Dean to fix his shirt and knot his neck tie. When Dean tightened it against his collar, Castiel felt a little closer to human. 

 

The day before the race, Dean bounced around the garage with renewed vigor. Castiel had placed some limits at work and was coming home earlier. Finally, he had the interest and energy for some play which was doing them both a world of good. And, of course, there was the 5-K. 

Castiel still had no idea they would be running for their lives Saturday and it thrilled Dean to be able to surprise him. During their leisure together, Dean had purposely snuck in episodes of Walking Dead and other zombie-related shows. With the calendar nearing Halloween, the television guide was chock-a-block of programs from which to choose. Castiel preferred the sciencey stuff that considered the actual biology of the animated undead, so they often debated theories and planned for the inevitable World War Z. 

It was a nice change of pace.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Garth came in for his shift and settled in at the lift beside Dean.

“Oh, hey man. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. How are things on the home front?”

“Good.” Dean didn’t open up to Garth as much, now that he was speaking to Sam everyday. Still, the guy was good people and Dean trusted him. He had been open and informative when Cas had first took a turn toward depression, Dean figured he owed him an honest update. So when Garth asked about Castiel, he answered truthfully. “He’s good. Real good. Rough days, but even with the craziness at work, he’s been alright.” 

They dug into the hoods of their respective cars and put themselves to work as they conversed. 

Dean lit up as he talked about his partner. He was so proud of him for the way he was handling his work situation and Dean couldn’t be happier to see the way Cas cared for his niece. Castiel was understanding with Dean’s odd work hours and supportive of Dean’s exploration into Dominance. Dean had once thought that Castiel wouldn’t be willing to submit and he felt honored, in a way, that his partner would trust him enough to show his vulnerability. He spoke with Garth in vague descriptions of their relationship, but with his head and hands in the engine, Dean didn’t feel as self-conscious as usual.

Garth let him ramble until he stopped on his own. “Sounds like Castiel is really working hard. How are his moods?”

Dean acknowledged the ups and downs, and expressed gratitude for all the advice Garth had supplied. After tightening a loose gasket, Dean placed down his tools. “You know, everybody’s always asking about Cas…”

“Yeah?” Garth peeked out from under the hood of the truck he was servicing. 

“Yeah, and I was just thinking… why don’t you guys ever ask about me?”

Garth scratched behind his ear, leaving a smudge of grease on his neck. “Uh, well, I didn’t think this was news to you, but you’ve been grinning like a possum for weeks now. Guess we all figured that was a positive sign. And it’s pretty obvious Cas is the reason why, so…”

“Oh.”

“Why? Is something wrong? You want to talk about it?” Garth pulled himself out from the hood and leaned on the truck’s bumper.

“No,” Dean said quickly, turning away from his co-worker. This face to face crap wasn’t for him. “Everything’s fine.”

 

The drive to the park was about an hour, so Dean prepped Cas as much as he could without giving away the surprise. “So, this isn’t your average 5K.”

Castiel assured Dean that he’d run through worse, “I’m sure I can handle it, Dean.” As they pulled up to the event with time to spare, Dean saw it was a madhouse. A glorious madhouse.

They approached the tents hand in hand, Castiel letting out a soft gasp whenever he caught a glimpse of a person in full costume. 

A spry red-head with a pixie cut waved them over to her table. Her bright smile distracted from the gaping wound at her neck. “Hi!” She greeted cheerily, “Welcome to the apocalypse! Name?”

They received their running bibs and start time before being invited to mingle at the park. 

“Is this for real?” Castiel helped Dean pin his bib to his shirt.

“Ha. Do you like it?” He smiled nervously at the buzzing crowd, but Castiel seemed used to the pre-race commotion.

Looking around at the hundreds of smiling and undead faces, Castiel wondered, “Do we have to wear make up, too?”

“No.” Dean thought he could see a flash of disappointment cross Cas’s face, “But if you want, we can do that next time.” 

Castiel nodded and took in the sight. He could tell it would be a cross-country course, through wooded areas and a few clearings. As he reviewed their trail map and tightened his laces, he wondered if Dean had trained enough to handle the uneven terrain.

The run itself started off great. Dean could tell Castiel was really enjoying himself as he slowed his pace, taunting the zombies before putting on a burst of speed and leaving them in the dust. 

Living through the first leg of the race seemed simple enough and they cut across the parking lot with ease. It was the wooded areas that tripped Dean up. He wasn’t used to looking for or jumping over fallen branches and his sneakers slipped on the leaves. Castiel stayed with him, but Dean didn’t like to hold him back. 

“Go on without me,” Dean gasped as his foot caught in a tangle of roots. He sounded all the more dramatic for being winded. Excited by the atmosphere, Dean had pushed himself hard from the beginning, instead of keeping the pace of his practice runs.

Castiel frowned, “I am not leaving you behind. Let us not be ridiculous.” He helped Dean free his ankle and pulled him forward. 

A low, raspy groan startled them from behind. 

Dean launched himself over a rotted trunk and took the time to get a good look. The zombie approached quickly and, as it closed the distance, Dean could see the guy was huge. 

Cas yanked at Dean’s arm until they were back on the trail. Dean couldn’t keep himself from looking over his shoulder and was genuinely alarmed to see the zombie was gaining speed. 

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean bore down and pushed himself harder, knowing that the zombies worked in zones. Once they were out of the woods, this guy would have to back off. The meadow was within view, maybe a quarter mile ahead, when Dean heard another groan. He could swear the zombie was breathing down his neck.

Castiel matched his slower pace and urged Dean to keep going, “Don’t look back.”

They caught up to the main group of runners in their heat, but still this zombie wouldn’t let up. He seemed hell-bent on stealing their flags in particular.

Dean felt a hand swipe across his waist and yelped, tripping over his own feet at the edge of the grass. “Shit.”

Castiel pivoted and stopped to help him up, but the zombie tackled them both with a dive at their legs.

“Whoa, hands off, man. This isn’t football.” Dean pushed himself out from under the Cro-Magnon zombie-man as he drooled into his face. Catching a closer look at him, Dean found something disturbingly familiar about his eyes. Dean stared and the zombie blinked.

“Boo!”

Dean flinched, swinging his fist into the zombie’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Another wave of runners passed them as their zombie greedily collected flags from his seated position. “Sounded like too much fun to miss,” the prosthetics limited his expression, but Dean could tell he was trying to smile. He stuffed the flags into his pocket as Dean punched him again.

“You look awesome, but mostly gross.” Dean gathered him into a bear hug and complained at the smell of his makeup. 

“Hello,” Castiel extended his hand down to Dean’s zombie friend.

“Babe!” Dean exclaimed, “This is my disgusting undead brother, Sam.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam.”

Sam accepted the hand and got himself to his feet. “Good to see you, Cas. Can’t believe you got him off the couch and into sneakers.”

“He did seem to take on a strange urgency for our runs. I suppose this was part of it.”

“How the hell did you get so fast?” Dean asked his brother, cleaning leaves and dirt from his clothes.

“Started training like you guys. There are some great parks near school. Figured you city-folk might slow down through the woods.”

“So, what happens now? Do we finish the race?”

“Might as well. I’m still on zombie duty for a while, but maybe we can grab a late lunch?”

“Sure. Yeah. Call us when you’re done.”

 

At a nearby diner, tables were full of sweaty, dirty, undead and living runners filing up after an afternoon of exertion. Sam sat across from Cas and Dean at a booth, makeup still clinging to the edges of his face. 

“So, how long are you around?” Dean tucked into his sandwich with gusto.

“Just a long weekend. Flight back is on Tuesday. My midterms are scheduled right up until Thanksgiving, so I won’t be around until winter break. It’s cool if I stay with you?”

Castiel answered, “Of course you will stay with us.” Dean smiled up until Castiel passed a key across the table. “The apartment about ours is available, if you like.”

At the house, Castiel let them into the second floor with a quiet pride. Being able to help and support another person warmed him to his core. That he could be so generous to Dean’s own family only made him happier. But as he flipped on the light and showed them the rooms, he quickly flushed with embarrassment. 

The hardwood floors and sparse furniture were covered in a layer of dust and the air tasted stale. Castiel hadn’t been up here for at least a month, though he thought it wouldn’t be so bad. He gathered himself, “I’ll clean it up for you for winter break.”

Dean offered the key to his own apartment instead, but Sam laughed.

“Guys, I could wipe this place down in an hour, less if I had an extra pair of hands. I’ve been living in a dorm, not the Ritz Carlton.”

Still grungy from their run, Dean helped Sam to clean up. Castiel left them to it while he went downstairs to shower and grab a set of fresh linens.

“So you still have your own apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought you guys were living together.” Sam tries to sound casual as he passes a broom through the kitchen.

“We do. Mostly.” Dean took a dust cloth to the tables and counters. “He hasn’t asked me to move in and I haven’t pushed it. We’re happy.”

“You’re happy paying rent for a place you never use?” Sam’s shrug was calculated and paired with a slight frown. “Doesn’t sound like you. So what’s up with this apartment anyway? Looks like it’s been empty a while.”

Dean wished Sam had said this in front of Cas so he wouldn’t have to bring it up on his own. Sam had this uncanny ability to drop ideas in a person’s mind and then change subject. It left his victim with a seed of doubt, curiosity, whatever, that grew even while the person was distracted by his next thought. It was one of the reasons why Sam would make a great lawyer. The more Dean thought about his vacant apartment across town, the more ludicrous it seemed. 

The brothers were almost finished when the apartment door opened. Castiel returned looking less like a mole person and smelling like soap. He tried to stay out of their way as he fitted the sheets over the bed and stocked the bathroom with towels and toiletries. Wanting to allow them plenty of time to catch up, Castiel announced that he would be starting dinner soon. Dean and Sam were welcome to come downstairs whenever they were done.

Confused, Dean slipped into the stairwell after him. “I thought you wanted to visit your niece tonight?”

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to go alone; neither did it feel right to beg Dean to come with him. Dean had already given up so much of his time to the Novaks already, that a relaxing night with Sam was the least Castiel could offer. Plus, Castiel didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get to know Dean’s brother.

Dean brushed his fingers over Castiel’s cheek, wiping away the look of indecision. “You think Gabe and Kali would mind him tagging along?”

A soft smile smoothed the lines from his face and Castiel leaned into Dean’s touch, “I suppose not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks! 
> 
> I hope y'all are happy and healthy. Please feel free to drop me a line, I'd love to hear from you. 
> 
> My tumblr: [ijustfriggen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ijustfriggen).

**Author's Note:**

> I had to abandon this story to focus on caring for my family. I love you all and I hope you enjoyed.  
> You can still find me on tumblr: [imjusttootired](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imjusttootired).


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